Fated
by ajn
Summary: Dean x OFC & Sam x OFC. The past never stays behind you…years ago something happened, paths were crossed and the friendships formed will change the lives of both brothers forever. The past has finally caught up with them, and it drives a ’68 mustang.
1. Chapter 1 Brooking Disappointment

**Fated**

_The past never stays behind you…_

**Disclaimer: **

Supernatural, Dean, Samuel and John Winchester are the property in part and whole of Eric Kripke and the WB and/or CW.

Ariel and Brooke Cooper however are characters created and written by the author for the author's explicit purposes alone.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author.

* * *

Chapter One– **Brooking Disappointment**

* * *

"Doesn't sound like you need a new fan belt, Miss." The lanky, blue shirted garage clerk called up to her from under the crud covered ford pickup he was working under. 

Brooke Cooper was madder than hell. The only thing she hated worse than small towns was small town mentalities. She knew exactly what was wrong with her car - she was holding the broken belt - but naturally what could she, a mere woman, know about cars?

"That's funny, I don't recall asking you your opinion." Irritation clearly radiated through her voice as she turned her head to better face the clerk. The motion sent what little light was filtering through the service department's door down her red hair, illuminating it like a flame. She readjusted her black tank top over her jeans and braced herself against the yellowed pickup. "I asked if you had a fifteen inch fan belt."

Ariel bit her bottom lip to keep a chuckle from escaping. Her sister was many things, but patient was not one of them. Brooke had the tendency to live up to the stereotypical red head with a fiery temper. She glanced back at the grease-covered clerk - the name 'Rich' was stitched into his uniform, and his dirty blonde hair had matted from the heat in the musty garage. Like most service stations of its kind it reeked of sweat and discarded oil. The exposed metal siding had corroded over the years of obvious neglect and the windows were covered with so many layers of dirt that the sunrays couldn't penetrate through it. The room was as skanky as the man himself.

With each passing breath she could see her sister's tolerance waning. Brooke may only be a slender five foot seven, but with three inch heeled boots clicking like a time bomb… she could go toe to toe with any man.

"Well have fun with that," she muttered as she headed for the exit. "You want anything from the diner? I'm starving."

"Surprise me," was spoken to a deft ear. Ariel was already gone. Ever since they had pulled into Red Bridge, she had been in a world of her own. Brooke's steely gaze fixed on the yellowed grey spotted pickup and hoped it was just the rain.

-----

The clouds were starting to clear, finally. Northern Ontario's greatest asset was its continuous wilderness and clear lakes, and this town was no exception. It had been raining since they'd pulled into Red Bridge: a little town of four hundred people at best.

Sam and Dean had already checked into the motel, a rather unremarkable building that's only claim to fame was a large fish motif on the vacancy sign. The room didn't fair much better then the sign. Blue and grey walls that may have been white in another life added to the dysphemistic décor. It never ceased to amaze Sam how badly most of these motels were decorated.

The sound of a boot against the door brought Sam off of that thought train.

"Sam move your ass, these are exactly pillows!" Before the last words left Dean's mouth, the door swung open.

"Thank you," Dean griped as he headed toward the battered table and dumped the inundated duffle bags on it.

"Rain stopped." Sam gestured toward the ill-chosen window facing the main access road.

Go figure, Dean thought to himself. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Their Dad had been AWOL since checking out of the hospital a few months ago and, aside from a rather lame voice message, hadn't gotten back in touch with them. He felt like he was back at square one all over again. Frustration raced through him; he had to get out of there, clear his head, put something in his stomach. "I'm going to grab something to eat at that diner up the street. You want anything?"

"Surprise me," muttered Sam as he ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm going to get cleaned up." The never-ending hours on the road always left him feeling stale. Nothing a shower couldn't fix. Sam's words were followed by the sound of the small bathroom door slamming shut. Dean cuffed the collar of his leather jacket as he walked back into the rain-chilled air.

-----

The Silver Spoon diner looked like it had been quite the place during its hay day. About three or four decades ago. Red and white chequered linoleum tiles hugged the room, and worn white counters and mottled red swivel stools were a throw back to a different era. Nothing noteworthy in the slightest, with the exception of the raven-haired beauty at the end of the counter. She was wearing a faded brown t-shirt with a gold lettered logo on it under a fitted denim jacket, as well as dark washed jeans and a pair of tan sneakers. Her posture echoed the petulance etched in her expression.

"What part of 'I'm not interested', isn't clear?" Ariel had all but told this close talking guppy to get the hell away from her, but he wasn't taking the hint. "I know how hard it is to come up to a complete stranger and try to make a connection, but please, for your own sake, understand that this is _not_ going to happen." Her words were only met with a lame your playing hard to get speech. Just at the point when she was considering ramming a fork down his throat, the chatter stopped.

"Sorry I'm late. Roads are a mess out there."

She whipped her head around so fast she sent her back length hair flooding over her shoulders. Her eyes were treated to an aphrodisiacal half-smile.

"Thanks for keeping her entertained for me." Dean waited for his words to sink in, but his patience failed. He gestured to the seat adjacent the green-eyed girl. "You're in my seat."

An agitated snort was the man's only reply as he shifted himself out of the chair. Embittered by his clear defeat, he slothfully moved toward the back of the diner, leaving the chair vacant. Dean didn't even hesitate to set himself upon it.

Ariel gave him a somewhat systematic look over. The navy shirt with rain soaked blue jeans and brown leather jacket didn't reveal anything about the man who had just managed to effectively situate himself in a rather transfixing position alongside her. Well worn brown leather boots didn't offer any clue as to his identity. Around his neck, he wore an interesting gold coloured Egyptian protection symbol. Not your average accessory of choice, but despite his ordinary appearance there was nothing typical about him. Especially with that devil-may-care grin on his face.

"Do that often?" Humour glittered in her eyes and softened the line of her jaw.

"Rescue the damsel in distress? All the time. I'm Dean, by the way."

"Ariel."

-----

Sam emerged from the shower towel clad, soaking wet. He reached into the murky blue duffle bag on the table and grabbed the first clean clothes he could find. Making a mental note to find a laundry mat he dried and dressed with a speed worthy of the rumble in his stomach. Sam zipped up his dark-brown hooded sweatshirt over his green jersey and bolted out of the motel room, heading straight to the diner. Fortunately, the rain that threatened to return at a moments notice had remained at bay.

The entrance chime caught Ariel's attention for some reason and the smile she had been wearing since meeting Dean fell the minute she saw him walk threw the door.

"Sam? Sam, is that you?" Shock and disbelief coursed through each word. She leaped out of her chair and bolted towards him before Dean had enough time to turn and see the look on his brother's face.

It had been well over a year since Ariel had seen Sam. There was something so different about him, a maturity and disquiet beneath the surface that he hadn't had at Stanford. "You've certainly changed. But you still refuse to get your haircut I see. God, Sam it's good to see you!"

"Ariel." His words were followed by a warm smile that reminded him of how much he had missed her. "It's been a long time."

Tears welled in her eyes, intensifying their colour to a deep emerald. "Sam, I… I'm so sorry about Jess…I know how much she meant to you," tears choked the rest of her words.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She squeezed him tight, allowing the hug to say all she couldn't bring herself to speak.

At five foot five, there was nearly a foot in height difference between her and Sam's six foot four frame, so when he straightened he lifted her off the floor and held her there for a moment. When her feet touched the floor again, he released her and she wiped at her spent tears with her sleeve.

"You know, I forgot what a shrimp you are." He followed his words with a smile that could melt the arctic itself and held his hand a few inches above her head.

She slapped at his outstretched hand and gave him a rather quick simper.

"Very funny, Sam. What are you doing here?" She shook her head, realizing that wasn't the question she needed answered. "Where have you been? I was starting to think you fell off of the face of the earth."

Sam's first response was to dodge the questions. He ran his hand up the nape of his neck and tried to measure the amount of truth he could acceptably give her. The look in her eyes made him think better of it. He had never had the heart to conceal anything from her. "Just passing through. We've kind of been all over."

"We?"

Sam gestured towards a rather bewildered looking Dean. "I see you've already met my brother, Dean."

Ariel's mouth dropped with an alarming speed and her face started to turn carmine before she even turned her head to meet his gaze. "Your Sam's brother."

"You don't have to look so stunned."

"I'm uh…it's just Sam described you a little…differently, that's all."

"Described me how?" Dean shot his brother an abrasive look before bringing his attention back to the green-eyed woman staring at him as if they hadn't just spent the last thirty minutes flirting shamelessly.

"It doesn't matter. So you're Dean Winchester." The moment his name left her lips she got an odd feeling she had heard it before. She stared at him for a moment, tilting her head slightly, trying to remember. He gave her an ear-to-ear grin. He clearly did not mind the rather frank appraisal she was giving him. "On second thought, you're exactly as he described you."

-----

Brooke slammed the hood of her sixty-eight mustang down so hard she felt the car rock. It had taken her forty-five minutes to get that dimwitted fool to sell her the correct fan belt. She wiped her hands off on an old orange cloth and wiped her fingerprints off the hood. The rain had at the very least washed the dirt off her baby, leaving nothing but a shiny navy blue paint job. She grabbed her beaten metal toolbox off the dirt shoulder and walked towards the trunk, throwing everything in with unerring accuracy.

After locking the trunk, she looked at her watch. There was no way Ariel and her could make it to Jacko Point before sunset. In such a small town, pulling up in the middle of the night would bring them unwanted attention. Reaching into her pocket, she yanked out her keys as she settled herself into the driver's seat. Trying to remember if she had seen a motel sign on her walk to the service station, she inserted her key and turned over the engine. The car roared with renewed life, causing a somewhat fleeting grin to brush her lips.

-----

"It's my fault," Ariel was saying, "I never got your cell number." In their four years at Stanford Ariel hadn't once needed to use the number or email address. They'd seen each other everyday, and she'd had his apartment phone number for emergencies. It had only been after the fire that she had regretted not writing it down. She hadn't expected to be away from Stanford for so long.

The night Brooke had come for her, she'd just packed, left a note for Sam and Jess on their door telling them she would be back in a week, and absconded. She had come back only to find Jess had died in an electrical fire and Sam had taken off with his brother to get over the tragedy. And that was it. No goodbyes and no contact until now.

Dean couldn't hold back his curiosity anymore. "Sorry to interrupt,"

"No you're not," Sam shot back at him.

"Shut up!" Dean glared at his brother. "How exactly do you two know each other?"

Smiling softly at Sam, Ariel remembered their first meeting. "We've been friends since our first day of classes. We had myth and mythology together first period. We wound up debating the validity of vampire lore."

"Debating? Ari, you browbeat me into sufferance!" Sam didn't keep the mild shock from his voice at her recounting.

"You deserved it! I don't know why you took the class if you didn't believe at least in part that there are things out there." She went to take a sip of her coffee and, realizing it was still to hot to drink, she placed in back on the marred table and continued her story as though there had been no injection from Sam. "Anyway we hit it off and started hanging out after that. Of course him falling for my roommate didn't hurt."

"Jessica was your roommate?"

"Yeah, for the first two years, then she and Sam took over the apartment and I bunked with Sam's old roomy."

Dean looked at his brother with a degree of curiosity. He had wondered how the two of them had met. Sam looked at Ariel with a level of sadness hidden under his elation at seeing her again. She was bringing Jess back into his mind. Dean could see it in his expression.

-----

Sam couldn't help but remember the day he and Jessica had 'decided' to live together. Ariel had gotten so fed up with him eating her cereal she had dragged the two of them out of bed, sat them on the couch, and before either had had a chance to speak, Ariel had announced she was packed. If he had only known what was going to happen, he would have walked straight out of Jessica's life at that very moment. Regret and grief started retching at his chest. Sam had gotten over losing Jessica. He had even been able to forgive himself for her death, but that didn't stop his heart from hurting every once and while. He started to wonder if anything would.

Ariel couldn't bare the look of unhappiness in Sam's eyes. She could feel his pain as though she had suffered his lost. Acutely aware of Dean's concern for his brother, she thought carefully about her choice of words before speaking.

"Just because you feel grief over her loss doesn't mean you haven't let go." She stared into her coffee cup, seeing only the colour of his eyes, then back at the man who reminded her of a different life. A life she knew she could never have again. Things were too different. She was too different. "It just means you haven't forgotten the love you had."

Sam's eyebrows started to furrow as he looked at his friend as though he had never seen her before. Ariel had always been intuitive, but that was far too accurate, even for her. It was at that moment he realized she wasn't the same girl he had befriended at Stanford. Her eyes were wistful. "I'm not the only one who's changed."

"No. You're not." Ariel smiled to herself. If only he knew how much she had changed.

"Your orders are ready," The Silver Spoon's only waitress called toward them. She walked towards the table holding four white paper bags that only brought out the vividness of her red uniform. A white pill hat and apron completed the outfit.

"I should go. Brooke's probably looking for me." Ariel was out of her chair before the waitress made it to their table. She flashed the waitress a quick smile and took her two bags, placing the other two on the table.

"If you boys are still around, I'll be in here for breakfast before we leave tomorrow, around seven."

"Okay, seven it is." Dean said with a grin that screamed of false innocence.

Sam looked at Dean, surprise evident in his voice. "You do realize she means seven in the morning, right?"

An annoyed scowl was Dean's only response.

Shaking her head, Ariel reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small black note book and pen. With remarkable speed she jotted down her phone number and email address on a blank page, tore it from the book and placed it on the table directly in front of them.

"Just in case you boys over sleep." She winked at Sam and flashed Dean an encouraging smile before heading toward the exit.

"You know there's only one motel in this town, we might as well just walk with you." Dean's words stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to face him, causing her hair to fall on to her face. Using her hand to brush the hair away she couldn't help but return the smile he was giving her.

Dean stared at Ariel for a moment and tried to pin down what was so appealing about her to him.

"I'm headed to the service station actually, but you're more then welcome to keep me company."

Realizing instantly what had been going on before he had entered the diner, Sam ran his hand through his chestnut hair and averted his eyes.

"Yeah, okay this is awkward. I'm just going to go back to the room." Standing quickly and picking up the remaining two bags off the table he headed towards the door, passing a rather embarrassed looking Ariel.

"Goodnight Ari."

"Night Sammy." Ariel allowed herself to over stress the latter part, knowing the nickname would annoy him.

"Sam." He called back from the doorway.

"What ever you say Sugar."

"Fine. I give up!" Sam said, shaking his head in exasperation. He pushed the grey metal and plain glass door open and walked through it.

"Sugar?" Dean lifted one caramel coloured eye brow suspiciously.

"So sweet he'll make your teeth rot. He hates it. Almost as much as Sammy." She couldn't help but smirk. Sam was so very particular about his name.

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

-----

"Excuse me, Rich, have you seen my sister? The red head?"

"She left a couple of hours ago, but she'll be back. She needs a new alternator." Rich wiped his hands on a grease covered jiffy cloth. The action was pointless; the cloth couldn't hold anymore oil then it already did.

"I thought she just needed a fan belt?" Ariel didn't bother to hide the doubt that audibly underlined her question.

"That's what she thought too. She'll be back." Rich smiled, revealing his tobacco stained teeth, and headed back into the garage.

"Is your sister any good with cars?" Dean's curiosity was underscored by his raised brows.

"The best. She's probably already fixed the stupid thing and headed to the motel."

"You know, they make cell phones for this very reason."

With a twist of her lips she said, "Ha ha. Very cute."

"Well I try to be." His words were preceded by an extremely cocky smile.

Ariel decided against retorting, knowing that was exactly what he expected her to do. Instead she just shook her head, sending strands of midnight to stick to her mouth.

Without thinking, Dean brushed the wayward strands of her hair aside and tucked them behind her ear. Emerald eyes glued to his, staring at him with a faintly mystified look.

What was is it about him that was making her so scattered? At this point it was taking all of Ariel's energy to focus on the reason she was in Red Bridge. It wasn't like her to get distracted! _He's Sam's brother_, she repeated in her mind every time she started thinking about osculation of any form. The fact that he kept looking at her like she was concentrated sun shine didn't help.

The piercing sound of her cell phone brought Ariel back to her senses in a flash. She reached for her back pocket and yanked out the shrieking contraption, glancing at the caller display before opening the shell.

"Brooke, where are you?"

"Motel. Are you at the diner?

"Service station. Don't worry I have your food." Disappointment ringing clear through her voice, she flipped the thin silver coloured phone shut and looked at the golden haired man standing in front of her in the waning sunlight. "I have to go."

He gestured towards the dirt road they had just taken and smiled. They started to walk back towards the motel in relative silence.

-----

The line was dead. Brooke looked at her cell phone, wondering why her sister had been in such a hurry to end the call, and flipped it shut and placed it back on the dinged sea blue night stand. _Great_, Brooke thought to herself as she wrapped the pale blue towel firmly around herself, I'm staying at a fish motel. She stared at the three foot rainbow trout nailed to the dingy blue and grey walls. Two queen sized beds sat below either side of the mounted fish on the wall.

Tying her freshly washed hair into a braid reaching just past her shoulder, she gave the room a quick scan, pausing at the window. At first she thought she was seeing things, so she moved closer to the window and pulled the faded blue curtains away completely. There, sitting in the parking lot, was her little sister, talking to some guy on the hood of a black sixty-seven Chevy Impala. With Kansas license plates.

"Oh my God!" The incredulity of seeing something she knew couldn't be possible was enough to send her barrelling towards the door. Grabbing at her boots, she tried desperately to stay calm, only pausing long enough to fasten the buckles securely to her feet before she stamped out the door.

"Dean Winchester, you get the hell away from my sister!"

-----


	2. Chapter 2 Decking Dean

* * *

Chapter Two – **Decking Dean**

* * *

Dean was imagining things. He must've been, because there was no way Brooke Cooper was standing in front of him in nothing but a towel, boots, and a look on her face that could kill a lesser man.

Blinking slightly, trying to readjust his obviously distorted vision, he realized this was not his imagination playing a horrid joke. She was there, and she was pissed!

"Coop? What the-"

She didn't give him the chance to finish. Her only thoughts were for her now wide-eyed sister. "Get away from my sister!"

"Your what?" Disbelief hit him…hard. He had not misheard her. The dark haired girl sitting alongside him was a Cooper. He couldn't believe it.

"My sister! The girl you were about to swap spit with!" Brooke could barely contain the fury raging through her blood. The marauder had been seconds away from working his magic on her sister, the girl whose life Brooke was willing to protect with her own. How dare he!

Though jolted at first, Ariel didn't allow the sensation to render her speechless. She twisted slightly in order to see both the rage that permeated Brooke's every movement, and a clearly dumbstruck Dean.

"You know each other!" It wasn't a question. Brooke's heated response was so evident that there was no questioning their familiarity.

As though her sister hadn't said a word, Brooke focused her full attention on Dean, who at the moment looked like he had just thrown a rock into a glass museum.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" Thinking better of it, she abandoned her question, choosing instead a prevailing assertion. "Scratch that, I don't care. Just stay the hell away from us!" The farther Dean Winchester was from her, the safer they would all be.

-----

Groggy couldn't even begin to describe the feeling blanketing Dean's head. Seeing Brooke again had reminded him of things he would rather forget. Of course, the reality was that they had happened and he had better start dealing with it.

The sound of the front door opening dragged him from his tormented rest. Nevertheless, the smell of coffee prevented him from developing any sort of apprehension. Without looking to verify it was Sam in the entranceway, Dean turned flat on his stomach, burying his face away from the light flooding the room.

Sam headed for the small table in the left corner of the room. He pulled one of the cerulean chairs from the distressed table with his foot and sat himself down, lifting his feet up on to the bed that his brother was still using.

"You want to tell me what happened last night?"

"No," was spoken into the dreary white pillow cradling Dean's head.

By the time Dean had come back to the motel last night Sam had already been fast asleep. Sam made a frank assessment of his brother. In the morning light it was clear he hadn't had much sleep. He was lying on the still made bed, fully clothed down to his boots.

Sam wasn't sure if it was concern or curiosity that made him ask about Ariel; probably a bit of both. He had waited at the diner for her for an hour and when he had called her cell phone it had gone straight into voicemail. He didn't know what had happened last night, but whatever had transpired had caused him to lose her all over again. And he was not happy about it.

"She's fine. She's a Cooper. Trust me, she's freaking bullet proof."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean, Dean?" Sam emphasized his dissatisfaction with Dean's answer by kicking the bed repeatedly to prevent Dean from slipping back into a false sleep routine.

Aggravation forced Dean to sit up and face his brother, who wouldn't leave him alone despite his desperate wish to try to forget the whole thing had ever happened.

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't know she was a Cooper?"

"Last name's Cooper, so what?"

"So what?" The stupidity of the statement was so ludicrous that he couldn't believe his ears. "You befriended Frank Cooper's youngest daughter, Sam!"

"Frank?" Sam paused for a moment, recalling to his mind the name. "Dad's hunting buddy, Frank?"

"That'd be the one."

"Fire iron-Frank?"

"One and the same." Dean stood in a manner befitting a man who had managed to get three hours sleep. Somewhat arrhythmic, he headed for the small bathroom opposite him. Wondering when this feeling would leave him, he shut the door and stared at himself in the mirror for a long time. For over four years he had taken his dealings with Brooke Cooper and thrown them in a locked box marked 'do not read, ever' in the back of his mind. Four years was a long time. Not long enough to take the sting out of seeing her again, and not nearly enough to take the hatred she so clearly had for him out of her eyes.

Sam looked down at the coffee cup he had forgotten he was holding. It was bright red Styrofoam with a dancing grey spoon on it. He didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Four years he and Ariel had been friends at Stanford, and that whole time he hadn't known who she really was. They had both made a point of not going into details about their families' or their pasts. The most they had mentioned was that they had siblings, and that though their fathers were alive, their mothers had passed on when they were young. He had never asked, and she had never said anything more prevalent than that. He had never known what she was. Then again, she didn't know what he was either.

Did she?

-----

"So what, you're still not talking to me? That's really mature, sis!" Brooke pressed her right foot to the gas pedal of her mustang firmly, causing the engine to bellow in acquiescence. The sooner they reached Jacko Point, the better. She knew it would give Ariel less time to try prying at her intermeshed demons.

"Not telling me what the heck is going on is just as pathetic, sis." Ariel's tenor made her words sting in all the right places.

"Okay, that's it!" Brooke's voice oscillated with irritation. She was getting really sick of this. Last night for the first time in over four years she had seen the one man in the world she never wanted to cross paths with again. The encounter had left her numb and shattered. Getting her sister away from Dean and back into their motel room had been easy; getting her to let it go and move on had proved impossible. Once Ariel had become too exhausted to argue, she had resigned herself to not speak at all. In the back of her head, Brooke knew Ariel deserved some sort of explanation, but she'd be damned if she was going to give it to her.

Brooke pulled the car over hastily to the shoulder of the gravel road, stopping short of a small route marker. The sound of rocks strewing and crunching beneath the rubber tires echoed in the silence of the car. When the car came to a stop, Brooke threw it into park and switched off the ignition with noticeable force.

Turning to face her sister's deadened green stare, she set her jaw and bit down, not bothering to conceal her antagonism. "Fine, you want to talk, let's talk. Let's start with-"

"Let's start with what the hell is going on?" Ariel was not in a mood to play games.

"He's John's son, Ari."

"In case of emergency call J.W., John. Are you sure?" The thought that Dean and Sam were the sons of such a proficient huntsman stunned her. In the years she had known Sam he had never demonstrated any traits easily identifying him as a hunter's son. The thought was far too flummoxing to envisage.

"We worked a couple of jobs together. Trust me, I'm sure!"

Silence was her only answer.

"I don't know much about the youngest, aside from the fact that he goes to college somewhere in the States. But Dean…" She paused for a moment to choose her words; she knew there was no way to describe her experience with Dean without revealing her secret. "He's a skilled hunter. He's just a less than a stellar human being."

"Why won't you tell me what I want to know?" Her sister was dodging the real question, on purpose.

"Because, I don't want to talk about it."

"Sam's my friend, Brooke." She stared straight into her older sister's indigo eyes. What horrible thing had Dean done to her that would cause her to screen the truth? She needed to know what it was. What's more, she needed to know whether Sam was a part of it.

Without further ado, Brooke forced her eyes back on to the road, roused the engine back to into verve, shifting gears with a renewed zeal to put distance between her and Red Bridge.

"I don't have a problem with Sam, Ari. I've never met him. But Dean… trust me sis, he's bad news every single day of the week." She grabbed her dark chrome coloured sunglass off the tan dashboard and placed them astride the bridge of her nose. "And twice on Sundays."

-----

"Sam."

There was no answer.

"Sam!" Dean called Sam again, this time flicking him in the ear with his finger.

"Dean!" Sam swatted his brother's hand away from his head. "What?"

To say Sam was distracted would be a huge understatement. He was reviewing every memory surrounding his friendship with Ariel, trying frantically to see if she had given him any indication as to her real identity. Sam knew he had never let on about his past; the thought that she had also been able to keep such a secret should not have been that surprising. He had never lied to her. Deep down he knew she hadn't truly deceived him either. They just hadn't talked about it. That was probably why they had been such fast friends. They both implored the same 'don't ask, don't tell' policy required in this business.

"What's the number?" Dean's tone clearly revealing how much his brother was ragging him.

Sam flipped back to the page of his notebook full of short hand and skimmed the page hurriedly. "One fifty-eight."

Dean hit the brakes with so much force that the car sprang forward, throwing Sam and everything he had in his lap into the dashboard.

"We passed it." Dean hit his signal indicator and pulled the Impala off the road next to the curb full of blue box recycling bins. He grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open long enough to ease out of the car before slamming it shut.

Sam grabbed his notebook and pen off the floor of the car and jimmied the door open only to be face to face with an irritated Dean.

"Sammy, get your head right, man! Look, I get it. Your friend isn't who you thought she was, but that doesn't change the fact that we have a job to do. A job we can't pull off with you off in la-la land. Deal with it later and move your ass."

Dean was right. Sam knew it.

"Okay."

-----

"Where did you say you boys were from, again?"

Something was wrong. Dean could feel it. The moment he had asked about Mrs. Wallace's late son she had clammed up and looked at them as if they had grown horns. He knew how distrusting eighty-three year old women could be. Judging by the way she was eyeing the knitting needles sitting in the basket by her feet, she was not in a very trusting mood. Dean shifted slightly, glancing at his brother, who sat next to him on the violet floral sofa.

"Well, like I said, we're reporters from the Globe and Mail, ma'am."

Placing her teacup back on its lilac flowered saucer, Mrs. Wallace lightly set the plate on her oak coffee table. She looked both boys up and down, noting their postures weren't in the slightest bit threatening. The taller of the two had a sincerity in his expression that reminded her of her dear Erin. Though the shorter one was a bit brash, he carried no malevolence in his expression. Whoever they were, they weren't going to try to hurt her. "Why do you want to know about Erin, too? One set of reporters isn't enough?"

"I'm sorry?" Both brothers chimed in unison. Dean bit back a groan. He knew instantly his day was about to go straight through a shit storm.

"This morning two young ladies came by asking me the same questions. They said they were with the Globe and Mail as well." Mrs. Wallace looked at the two boys sitting in front of her. The Globe and Mail clearly was not paying them very well. The taller of the two needed a hair cut, wore a washed-out brown jacket, khaki coloured hooded sweat shirt, and faded navy t-shirt over a pair of dark jeans. The shorter one on the right was donning a worn slate coloured jacket, burgundy button down shirt over a grey t-shirt and washed out jeans. Not exactly what came to mind when thinking of big city journalists.

Readjusting her yellow housedress, she glanced at the picture sitting on the coffee table facing her. Her sons Erin and Ethan were on either side of her husband down at the lake behind their house, holding various sized fish with prouder than peacock smiles. She reached and touched the picture, brushing Erin's face. Oh, how she missed him. She had never thought she would live to see the day she would have to bury her family, save one. When she turned her attention back to the two young men in her wood paneled parlour she noted the puzzlement apparent in their expressions. Who were these men?

"You know you can tell a lot about a man by his boots. My husband always told me that." She stared at their feet for a second. "Beat up runners and scruffy black boots. Well, whoever you are, you're not from the Globe and Mail, that's for sure."

She stood suddenly, passing them in a rush towards the front entryway. She opened the oak panelled door and motioned for them to leave. "I've answered enough questions for the day. Good afternoon gentlemen."

Stifling the shock of what had just transpired, Sam managed to form a half smile before following Dean through the door. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wallace."

"These women, the other reporters who were here this morning, one of them wasn't a red head by any chance?" Dean couldn't stop himself from satisfying his curiosity. He had had a bad feeling about this job the minute he had ran into Brooke.

"Yes. And the other girl had-"

"Jet black hair." It wasn't a question. Dean never should have gotten out of bed this morning. He should have gone directly to his car and drove straight back to the American border the minute he had seen Brooke Cooper. Why hadn't he?

"You know them?" Mrs. Wallace didn't worry herself by trying to hide the surprise on her face.

"Yeah."

-----

"Brooke, you're really starting to piss me off!"

Brooke looked out the window for the seventeenth time. She ignored her sister's hostile tone and stared at the parking lot at the Red Bridge Motel. They had had to drive back to Red Bridge after discovering that Jacko Point didn't have a motel. Talk about a small town. She had been relieved to discover that Dean's Impala was gone. After checking with the front clerk of the motel, she had discovered that they had checked out that afternoon and left town. She still couldn't describe the elation that had filled her mind when she had heard those words. If only her gut would stop telling her he was coming back. He always did, dammit. _He's gone._ She repeated the words to herself every time she looked out at the relatively empty parking lot. God, she hoped he would stay that way.

"Who are you looking for? Dean?"

"Should it bother me that you're on a first name basis with him?" Turning from the window, Brooke walked over to the closest bed and kicked off her boots before she let herself fall back on to it. She turned onto her stomach and hid her face from the intense light coming from the lamp on the nightstand.

"No. Don't change the subject!" Ariel closed the laptop she had been working on and set it onto the lazuline comforter at the foot of her bed. She was tired of being left out of the loop. If Dean and Brooke were enemies, she needed to know. Now.

When her sister's rhythmic key stroking stopped, Brooke knew she was in for another ear full. She loved her sister, but sometimes Ariel reminded her of their father. Single minded to the point of obsession.

"Brooke, you need to tell me what happened with you and Dean! I won't wait any longer. Why do you hate him?"

"I told you, he's a less than stellar human being." Why couldn't she just accept that answer and move on? Brooke couldn't help but yell at her sister, hoping terribly that she would trust her enough to drop the issue.

"Brooke!"

"He's arrogant, reckless and conceited. He's a danger to himself and anyone unfortunate enough to be near him!" Frustration radiated in her voice, increasing her volume and forcing her to turn and face her sister straight on.

"Well you're no picnic either, sweetheart!"

Brooke's eyes locked on to her little sister. It took a moment for the shock to drain from her mind. She leaped off the bed and hurried towards the entrance. Without any hesitation she flung the door open and glared at the man who had dared to enter her life again, despite being extremely unwelcome.

Dean's expression matched Brooke's to a tee. His breathing was rigid and his jaw was clenched. The two of them looked like they were about as thrilled to see one another as most people are to see the IRS.

"Brooke, I swear it's your freaking mission in life to give me grief," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"I thought that was obvious." She gave him a smile that unmistakably said she had no desire to be in his company.

"I'm not playing games! You-"

"What the hell are you doing here, Dean?" she cut across his words, refusing to be lectured by the man who had so selfishly ruined her life without a single lamentation. "You know what, I don't care! Get the hell away from me."

She went to slam the door shut but discovered his foot was preventing it from fully closing. She moved to step on his foot but while shifting her weight allowed him the chance to force the door open even wider.

Raising both his arms in a defensive manner, making sure there was no room for misinterpretation, he moved his body in between the door and its jam. "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do!" Her articulation resonated with unspoken rage.

He ignored her fevered pitch. "Don't think for one second I'm just going to let you go after that damn ring."

"How did you-"

"Why the hell else would I be in Canada, Brooke?" He glared into her wintry sapphire eyes, which were frozen with hate.

"You mean aside from the fact that you're a selfish ass-"

"Dammit, Brooke! Get out of your own way long enough to see I'm not the fricking enemy here!"

"Get out." Her eyes were as inanimate as her tone.

"No. This has gone on long enough." Four years was plenty of time.

"Go to hell!" she squalled.

"Brooke, it wasn't my fault!" he shouted at her, trying to sear his point into her thick skull. No sooner had the words left his mouth then he felt her hand strike his face. The force of the blow bowed his head. He knew she would. He hadn't bothered to avoid it either. He knew her well enough to know how deep this nerve was, how badly she wanted to pretend as if it had never happened. His presence made it all too real. Moreover, he knew that she honestly believed it was his fault. "Feel better?"

She inhaled sharply. "Yes."

-----


	3. Chapter 3 Same Difference

--------------------------------------------

Chapter Three – **Same Difference**

--------------------------------------------

Dean's expression caused a serge of worry to race through her blood. Brooke followed his gaze and the realization of what had just happened hit her like a five iron. Her sister was doubled over on the bed, the pain of their transgression evident in the sharp wrinkles of her brow. Brooke had been so mad at Dean, she had forgotten Ariel was in the room. Ariel's hands were shoved deep into her melanised hair and she was rocking back and forth, trying desperately to shut out the emotions surrounding her.

"Ariel, oh my god, I'm so sorry, I forgot." Brooke raced towards her sister, cupping her face, trying to see if she could even hear her. Her eyes looked wild and pain scoured the emerald rings of her dilated pupils.

Dean was standing directly behind her, worry etched in his jaw line, confusion in his eyes. "What's wrong with her?"

"Pass me that bag. The grey one on the chair, hurry!" Panic started to flare the pitch of her voice, revealing the seriousness of the situation.

Without hesitation he moved towards the bag, snatching it from the chair and bringing it straight back.

Brooke was about to reach in the bag when she felt her sister's hand over hers.

"Don't. I'm okay." Ariel's eyes were darkened with the pain of her experience, but she no longer looked feral with the borrowed emotions.

"No, you're not!" Brooke knew how much pain she had unknowingly inflicted on her sister. Four years worth of grief and abhorrence funnelled into a concentrated eruption of emotion.

"I can't use it right now, and you know it. I would be useless to you. Please, you have to trust me, Brooke. I'm okay. I just need to put some space between me and you two." Ariel stood quickly, wanting nothing more than to distance herself from the emotionally charged pair. Slightly unsteady, gripping her sister for balance, she looked at Dean. His unease was palpable in every line imprinted into his furrowed brow. He was actually worried about her. Wanting to reassure him, disliking the disquiet in his eyes, she touched his claret clad arm.

"I'm okay." She repeated it for his benefit, hoping the sentiment would relax him. Walking towards the front door, she started to feel the tension easing from her mind.

"I'm going to go chat with Sam." At the very least, he was rational. She knew she wouldn't be subjected to the same emotional rollercoaster that Dean and Brooke had forced her through. "When you two have cleared the air, let me know."

-----

Sam couldn't help but looked stunned when Ariel walked straight into his motel room and sat herself on the bed closest to the door without a word. After readjusting the white pillows behind her and placing her legs up on the lazuline comforter, which oddly enough matched the t-shirt she was wearing, she turned on her side to face Sam.

"What would you say were the chances of my sister knowing your brother? Three billion to one?"

"That sounds about right." He flashed her an ear-to-ear grin. The shock of her furtive identity had greatly subsided, leaving behind only an interest in filing the gaps they had both been so willing to absquatulate from. "So you're Five-iron Frank's little girl."

"You're John's baby boy." She smirked at the irony of their situation.

"I guess we had a lot more in common then we thought." Sam diddered his head somewhat. How could they have kept their secret so well from each other?

"It's funny, I spent so much time being surreptitious, hiding from my past, it never occurred to me that we share such…similar secrets."

Humour bit at his mouth. "Well it's not exactly something you staple to your resume."

"That's for sure." Letting a chuckle escape her lips, she diverted her eyes for a moment before re-establishing their gaze. "Sam, I wanted to tell you. But-."

"You couldn't. For the same reasons I couldn't tell you. Or anyone else for that matter. That's why it's called a secret, Ari."

"Still, it would have been nice to talk to someone who knew what it's like. Not many people grew up the way we did."

"Yeah, weapons training and making munitions isn't your typical family activity." A lyrical laugh was all the answer he had expected to his jape. The knowing smile she gave him was just a pleasant bonus.

"Why?" Ariel resettled her washed out jeans and kicked her sneakers off the bed.

"Why what?" Confusion was evident in crinkle of his brow.

"You left hunting to go to Stanford. You were going to law school the next year, leading a nice safe life. Jess dies and then you go back to hunting. You are hunting aren't you? I can't see why else you would be here with Dean."

"Yeah, we're hunting."

"So law school's out of the equation now?" She needed to know what had brought Sam back to his past occupation after all this time.

"Things changed." He searched for the best way to explain everything that had come to pass. "My Dad went AWOL; he went after the thing that killed my Mom, that killed Jess and-"

"So it wasn't an electrical fire?" She wasn't really surprised. She had never believed faulty wiring had caused her friend's early death.

"No. It went after her." Sam closed the laptop that had been lying unused on his thighs since Ariel had walked through the door. Very matter-of-factly, he said, "After that, my priorities changed."

She let out a hushed chortle. Everything had changed, for both of them, though in very different ways.

Sam couldn't wait any longer. "Why did you disappear, Ari? You were planning on coming to the party with us and then that morning-."

"I bailed. Yeah well, something happened to me. I couldn't be there. And I left so early I didn't want to wake you two up." She looked at her hands, regret engraved in the lines of her mouth. She should have said goodbye. But she had been so petrified; the minute Brooke had pulled up Ariel had gone like a shot. How was she to know leaving that night would cost her the two best friends she'd had in her life?

He looked at her for a moment, knowing instinctively that it must have been something major to take her away in the middle of the night. "What happened?"

"I changed," she said voicelessly.

Seeing the pain in her expression, he didn't push the issue. He knew she would tell him eventually, when she could. At the moment she looked so beaten by whatever inner demons she was wrestling with he just wanted to comfort her.

She could sense his need to reassure her and his acceptance of her unspoken secret before he even stood, putting the computer on the foot of the bed he had just abandoned. He sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her, wordlessly telling her it was okay. She placed her head on his shoulder and clasped his free hand in hers. Sam had always managed to make her feel at ease with his silent acceptance. She wanted nothing more than to tell him what had happened, what was still happening to her. A part of her knew what she would be risking if she did. People, even people like the Winchesters, had an odd reaction to people like her.

-----

Dean looked at the entranceway of the Silver Spoon the minute he heard the door chiming. Sam and Ariel had just walked in. Arm-in-arm. He wasn't sure what strange feeling bubbled up in his chest at the sight of the two of them together, so he mentally shrugged the feeling aside. He didn't like it, whatever it was.

"You super glued a beer bottle to his hand?" Ariel couldn't believe the tale Sam had been regaling her with.

"He had it coming, trust me!" Sam smiled at the memory. Every time his brother and he started pulling pranks on one another, the ostensibly innocent diversion escalated to monstrous proportions. He couldn't keep himself from wondering what Ariel had meant. She hadn't changed. Not really. She was still the same Stanford Med Student he had come to know and love.

They started to walk towards the counter when Ariel stopped short. Feeling like she and Sam were being watched, she turned only to face Dean and Brooke sitting in a ruby coloured booth, looking at them.

"Hi yah, sis," Brooke said with a wave.

"You two look oddly at peace." Ariel noted that the pair were sitting next to one another, talking calmly with little enmity.

"Yeah, well, Dean's still a jack ass, but I can't really hold it against him. One can't really defy their nature."

Dean stared at Brooke, deciding whether to respond to the blatant insult. The memory of Ariel's anguish filled eyes kept him silent. He wasn't sure why, but he felt in some way responsible for the pain she had experienced after his squabble with Brooke. Like it or not, he was worried about her. The only time he had seen someone experience that kind of intense yet fleeting pain had been during Sam's visions.

Sam looked at the food sitting in front of his brother and motioned to the crimson clothed waitress. "Can we get two more of those please?"

"Sure thing, Hun," was her only response.

"Don't tell me you're going to start that again," Ariel snapped.

"What?" Sam quipped faintly, not knowing to what she was referring.

"Ordering for me."

Sam shook his head and went to apologize for assuming Ariel wanted the same thing he did for dinner, but she was already talking again.

"It's okay, you're right as usually, but one of these days…" Griping to some extent, she slid into the booth alongside Dean, telling herself it was because the vacant seat beside him was closer. But she knew it was a lie.

"You must be Sam." Brooke looked at the gorgeous lofty brunette standing in front of her. What was it with this family? Both boys took their father's easy stance, and though dissimilar in ways, managed to look brutally sexy. Kansas was clearly a place she had to visit before she died.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me! Brooke, my friend Sam," Ariel said, gesturing at the two simultaneously. "Sam, my sister Brooke."

"Nice to meet you, Sam." Brooke extended her hand.

"Likewise." Sam took her hand without hesitation. Brooke Cooper looked nothing like he had expected; fiery red wavy hair, piercing blue eyes, and she held herself in the same manner Ariel did, with elegance and beauty of movement. The way his brother had described her, he had expected a boisterous tyrant.

Sam took the remaining seat beside Brooke, giving Ariel an incisive smile since she was already sitting next to Dean. He already knew his friend had taken a shine to his brother. She had turned eight different shades of red when he had confronted her about it during the several hours they had been talking in the motel.

"So what were you two talking about before we came in?"

"We were exchanging banshee stories." Brooke glanced at Dean, trying to decide whether or not she was happy they were on speaking terms again.

"Ohio?" Sam asked, knowing full well you couldn't discuss banshees without mentioning the twin Ohio banshees.

"Among others." Dean looked at Brooke, seeing her probing expression and not being bothered by it. He knew that she hadn't forgiven him. She had simply deferred her odium for the time being. "We were about to talk about the reason we're all here."

"The ophidian ring," Ariel said to no one in particular. They had all come a very long way to find this object.

Dean already had a plan of action in his mind. "I think we need to find it and melt the son of a bitch down."

"Metaphor for your life no doubt. Seek, destroy, and move on to the next." Brooke's annoyance flared instantly. Only Dean would be in such haste to destroy something that had some redeeming qualities.

"As a mater of fact-"

She didn't wait for him to finish, knowing exactly what crock he was going to try to sell her. "Hate to break it to you, sweet pea, but Canada is our turf. Do we come down to the States and muck around in your backyard? No. Back off!"

"I swear you have a skull with the tensile strength of steel. You two can't do this by yourselves!" Dean didn't know what had gotten into Brooke. She knew as well as he did that that ring was dangerous.

"But you two can?" The aggravation in her voice alluded to her teetering self-control. "Do me a favour, stow the chauvinistic, weaker sex crap!"

"Brooke, I didn't think we could do this alone either." He had been apprehensive about him and Sam getting in over their heads when he had found the article in the paper. The story had reminded him instantly of the ring. Once the ring resurfaced, he knew that he and Sam would have to do something about it.

"Didn't stop you from driving your ass up here though, did it?" Brooke shot back.

Their bickering was starting to chafe Ariel's nerves again. This had to stop. One outburst a day was all she could handle at this point. "Ozzy! Harriet! We need to find the bloody thing first. So why don't you _both_ stow the 'my horse is bigger than yours' crap and focus."

The server approached the booth with two large plates containing rather hefty orders of hamburgers and fries. She placed the plates in front of Ariel and Sam and asked them if they needed anything else before she walked away.

Sam searched out Ariel's eyes. Her entire expression was characterized by the vexation she had in her voice. "Why don't we just discuss it after?"

A few darting looks were shot across the table. Hunger won out over the collected frustration resonating through the four of them. At the very least, they could all agree to that.

Ariel went to reach for the ketchup bottle, realizing it was too far out of reach. "Sammy, pass the ketchup would yah?"

Seeing his brother's expression Dean couldn't resist the temptation to make matters worst. "And the salt while you're at it, Sammy boy."

Dropping his fork Sam glared at the pair venomously. "It's Sam!"

"Whatever." Ariel and Dean laughed in unison.

-----

"Now what?" Brooke looked at Dean with curiosity.

Sam didn't hesitate to direct attention away from his brother. "Well, since we're all here..."

"And we're not going anywhere." Dean didn't take his eyes off Brooke. He was not scared of her.

Feeling where the conversation was about to head, Ariel decided to cut it off at the pass. "Here's a novel idea," she looked directly at her sister, "why don't we all just work together."

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Sam knew that was the only acceptable option for everyone involved.

Brooke looked at her sister's dead set expression. There was no reasoning with her when she looked like that. Sensing her defeat, Brooke pushed her empty plate towards the center of the table and inhaled sharply. "Fine. Let's pool resources."

"Since you girls got to interview Mrs. Wallace I think you should run the show and tell." Dean gave his old friend a harum-scarum smirk. The thought of working together again couldn't possibly be sitting well with her.

"Fine. We've got all our notes at the motel." Standing in a rush, Brooke took her wallet out, left enough money to cover their orders and tip, and started heading towards the door. Turning slightly to see where her companions were, she noticed Sam was the only other to follow her lead. She stopped and looked at her sister, waiting. "Ariel, are you coming?"

"No. I think I'm going to grab another cup of coffee, take a walk around, clear my head, you know. Today was a long day."

"Yeah sure. I'll fill the boys in." Brooke's eyes filled with guilt. She knew it was her issues with Dean that had worn on her sister's mental state. Dammit! She had spent her life protecting Ariel the best she could. The helplessness she felt at not being able to protect her from herself was worse than anything she had experienced. Brooke pulled her bottle green jacket collar closer to her neck before turning again and heading for the door. The sooner she filled the Winchester boys in, the sooner they could get the ring, help her sister, and then Dean and her could get the hell away from each other.

"Actually I think I could go for another coffee myself." Dean had already had more than his fill of the stale lukewarm liquid, but he wanted to talk to Ariel.

Doing a good job of hiding the irritation in her voice, she turned to Sam. "You want more coffee too?"

"No, I'm good." Sam knew better than to stay. Ariel and Dean had been exchanging glances throughout dinner. Thankfully, Brooke had been so busy being pissed off that the exchange had escaped her notice. He knew she would be none to please at her sister's interest in Dean.

"Fine, I'll fill Sam in. He can fill you in, cause I'm not going through this again." She was half way out the door before the last words left her mouth. It was taking most of her self-control to keep herself from strangling that honey haired yank.

"Works for me," Dean called after her, not caring if she heard him or not.

"I'll bet," Sam said with a smile before running to catch up with the fiery red head with the temper to match.

Sam had been doing that a lot lately, Dean realized. Smile. Around Ariel.

"Thanks, Sammy!" She knew the words reached his ear by the gruff sound he emitted before clearing the door. Turning her attention back to Dean, she noticed he was staring at the money sitting on the table; his expression was one of uncertainty. "I know, it looks like monopoly money, doesn't it?"

"Huh?"

"The money." Ariel answered with a chuckle. "Blue, purple, green, pink and brown. If nothing else, we Canadians aren't shy of colour, that's for sure."

He realized he had been staring at the currency without actually looking at it. He laughed at her description of the cash.

"Come on, I could use some air." She stood and headed out the door, not bothering to check he followed her. She knew he would.

-----

"Power point or paper, Sam?"

"What?"

"Do you want to start with the power point or paper file?" Brooke looked at the man sitting in front of her on the cerulean clad bed in a faded navy t-shirt and dark jeans. He abandoned his hooded sweatshirt, after entering the room on the back door knob. She was still trying to decide whether or not she should even be letting him get involved. He looked too nice to be a veteran hunter. But then again, she didn't exactly fit that old hand bill either.

Sam thought for a moment at her question, then decided in would be easier to start with a working file. "Paper."

Reaching into the large cardboard file box sitting at the foot of bed beside the bathroom, Brooke pulled out a war torn file stocked full with newspaper clippings and notes. She handed the file to Sam and started walking towards the laptop sitting on the table across from the bed.

When Sam opened the dossier, a picture that had gotten wedged in the mass of papers fell to the floor. The picture looked a couple of years old and the edges were tattered, but that didn't effect the image. Brooke was sitting on the hood of her Mustang wearing a similar outfit to the one she had on at the moment, white tank top and jeans, her hair blowing in the wind, smiling with vigour. Nevertheless, Brooke was not the person that Sam was looking at. There, with a smile that exposed every tooth, was a young blond haired man with his arm around her.

"Who's the guy?" Deep down he knew it was none of his business, but he wanted to know more about Ariel's big sister. The woman who with every comment managed to infuriate his usually easygoing brother.

"What?" Brooke was lifting the lid of the laptop open but didn't bother to turn to face Sam. There were plenty of newspaper clipping in the file; Sam could just as easily read the article as he could ask her the identity of an Ophidian victim.

"The Texas ranger cut-out."

Brooke had been through that file many times over the years. Not one of the victims matched that description. But she knew someone who did. Turning to look at the picture long enough to remember the all the reasons she didn't keep the picture out, Brooke walked towards Sam, taking the photo from his hands and shoving it into her back pocket in one fluent motion.

"No one," she sniped in a lifeless tone.

"Right." He saw the flinch that swept through her at the sight of the picture. More importantly, he heard the tone in her voice. Whoever the mystery man was, she didn't want to talk about him.

Sam looked back into the file, pulling out the first newspaper clipping. Brooke stood there, staring at Sam for a second, astonishment written in every line of her expression. She had seen the curiosity in his eyes when he had inquired after the picture, yet he had dropped the issue when she made it clear she didn't want to talk about it.

"Are you sure you're friends with my sister?"

"Positive. Why?" Sam said, lifting his eyes from the paper he was holding.

"No reason." The thought that her annoyingly nosy little sister could have befriended this genial person was a bit of shocker.

"How far back do these clipping go?" Sam asked, as though the picture had never been brought up.

"At least thirty-two years, but the Ophidian ring origins date back a hell of a lot longer than that."

"This isn't the first time you've tracked it." It wasn't a question. The state of the file was a big give away. There were notes in every corner and in varying ink colours and thicknesses. However, it was the way she spoke of it that proved the issue. Her contempt was conspicuous. But then again, nothing about Brooke was subtle.

"No. It isn't. About four and a half years ago we found the bloody thing, but the trail turned up dead cold in a matter of days. Hasn't resurfaced until now."

"Any particular reason?" he asked without lifting his head from the folder.

"Best I can figure? Timing. There have been gaps before. It seems to space out attack depending on the amount of destruction it caused last time. The more damage, the longer the wait."

Brooke rubbed the back of her neck with an impatient hand. The minute she had found that article and realized the ring was back her neck had knotted and refused to relax. She let out an irritated sound when she thought about the task ahead of them.

"Tracking the thing is a bitch. After it surfaces, it disappears into a different part of the country, with no apparent connections. And, of course, we always get there too late to do anything more than ask what happened."

Sam flipped through a couple more pages before he looked up at Brooke with a puzzled look. "You and Dean worked on this before?"

"How did you-"

Holding up a few clipping and notepapers in his right hand, he looked at Brooke and said, "This is his writing."

-----

"You must be feeling better." Ariel was trekking through the varied trees that made up this striking forest with gusto. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened earlier?"

"Migraine." It wasn't a complete lie. Dean and Brooke emotions had caused her head to nearly split in two. Ariel stopped walking and looked Dean. He was very difficult to get a read on without a great deal of focus. That was probably why she found herself so attracted to him. It had been over a year since she had been at a lost as to how someone felt around her.

"That was one hell of migraine." Dean had a sneaky suspicion that she wasn't telling him the truth. But he didn't want to push her. Knowing Brooke, she had already tried to convince her that he was some kind of fiend.

"So what did you do to my sister, anyway?" The question was a little out of left field, but it effectively took his mind off her 'headache'.

At first, he looked at her, wondering if she had read his mind. Understanding instead that that would be a reasonable question given the circumstances, he answered the best he could.

"I didn't do anything to her." Realizing that wasn't a good enough explanation, he continued. "She's blaming me for something that wasn't my fault. It just…happened."

There was nothing difficult to read in that statement. Even if she hadn't felt the pain resonating from him, his tone spoke volumes. She couldn't help herself from reaching out to comfort him. Whatever had happened, he was as haunted by the ordeal as Brooke was. Realizing right before she touched his arm what she was about to do, she caught herself. What was wrong with her lately? She didn't even know this guy, but she already felt comfortable enough with him to offer him solace. Given her situation, she was better off pretending she couldn't feel a thing.

"Ariel-" Dean wasn't sure what was going on, one moment she was extremely close to him and in the next breath she had snatched her hand back as though she had been burned.

"Then why does she think you're evil incarnate?" She knew he was going to ask her what had just happened. But she also knew she had to focus on the task at hand. If Brooke would not tell her what was going on, Dean would. One way or the other.

"She thinks I didn't do anything to prevent it." Pausing for a moment to repeat her words in his head, he stared into her eyes, more black in the waning sun, then emerald. Lifting one brow as he spoke. "Evil incarnate?"

"Her words, not mine." She raised both her hands in front of her in a justificative gesture.

"Wow! I knew she was pissed, but damn." He raked his hand through his sunburnt hair in an aggravated motion, wondering when Brooke was planning to let go of the past. "That girl sure knows how to hold a grudge."

"You're telling me," Ariel said with a roll of her eyes.

"Do you think she's right about me?" The minute the words had left his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. What did it matter what Brooke's little sister thought of him? But for reasons that weren't entirely clear, it did matter to him.

"Please. If I thought that, you wouldn't be breathing oxygen right now."

Ariel looked at the man standing in front of her. Three very different images came to mind when she thought of Dean Winchester. Brooke had portrayed him as a loose-cannoned playboy who cared for nothing but himself. Sam had painted a slightly more flattering portrait; he held that his older brother was a great person who was viciously protective of him, but who just had misplaced priorities. Yet being with him now, she felt so much more than that. There was a part of him he hid very well, a part that seemed almost pensive.

"Well, she's not completely wrong about you. But she's not completely right, either."

Dean gave her a sumptuously bumptious smirk. She had to physically restrain herself from smacking it right off him. His over-confidence was making him brash.

"Do you ever stop?"

"Stop what?" Dean released his simper for a brief moment; he was to some extent baffled by her question.

"Philandering."

His smirk returned with renowned dynamism. "I will, if you will."

"You're assuming I am?" Her tone was flustered. No one had ever accused her of coquetting, in any manner. However, it wasn't the accusation that was frustrating. The truth behind it egged her.

"You are totally into me." He spoke as though it was a widely known fact.

"You're amazingly self-assured." Ariel turned her back on the cocky devil before she whacked him with her shoe. What was it with him? One moment she wanted to buss him, the next she wanted to indent her footprint into his skull.

Dean wrapped his hand around her wrist in such a way that the motion pulled her backwards into his arms. Her sharp intake of breath and the slight shiver that rippled through her were all the answer he needed. He released her almost as immediately as he had taken her by off balance. Her cheeks started turning a bright red the moment she realized what he had done; used her own response to him as a means of human lie detection. His smirk grew to a full on smile at the sight of her flush. He was right. And she knew it.

"You were saying?"

Turning on her heels, Ariel continued walking back up the beaten path in the woodland, grumbling something about conceited, arrogant, smug ass men and egos.

------

"So how many people die before the ring moves on?" Sam had gone through enough of the file to recognize the seriousness of this job. The ring acted like a plague, causing death and destruction before heading on to the next town to start over.

"Each time, at least two. In a few cases dozens. The pattern is erratic. The victims die in different ways, different times, different places." Brooke pulled out one clipping of a town in Pennsylvania where twenty-four people had died before the ring had disappeared for several years, only to reappear in Texas.

Sam took the article from her, making quick work of each inscription, before moving on to the next one. They had been looking at this file for over an hour and still there were no visible patterns, other than death trailing the ring like a vulture. It made no sense.

"Then how are you sure they are connected?" Sam needed to make sure they were chasing the same object throughout each case.

"Because after a death or two of someone connected to the wearer of the ring, the wearer themselves dies." Brooke knew there was no mistaking Ophidian ring victims, but she recognized that Sam needed that same certitude. "With the same mark and in the same way each time."

"What way is that?" Sam couldn't see any consistently reoccurring cause of death in the articles he had read thus far.

"Snake bite. But only the wearers of the ring. Egyptian cobra to be exact. Ironic considering the last place we found the damn thing was in North Carolina."

"That's what I don't understand. If Erin Wallace died in North Carolina, why are we in Ontario?"

"Because for the first time, we're following the ring itself, not its trail. The ring came here with his body. He was supposedly buried with it on his finger." Brooke knew that there was only a small chance the ring had stayed with the body to the grave. She let her concern sound in her voice. Unfortunately, the odds weren't in their favour.

"You don't sound to optimistic, Brooke."

"It's never that easy, Sammy." She stood and walked towards the small coffee pot sitting on the cerulean dresser under the main window by the front door. She reached for her used azure coloured mug, poured herself a cup, and turned to ask Sam if he wanted any. He was looking at her. "Sam?"

"Nothing. I'd loved a cup." He gave her an encouraging smile that reminded her that he was in fact a Winchester. The three of them had a way of pulling a smile out to reassure you they were harmless at just the right moment. It was a gross lie, but an effective one. She turned back to the coffee pot and started to pour a second cup.

Brooke hadn't realized she had called Sam by his hated nickname. The anomalous thing was that he hadn't bothered to correct her. She hadn't said it to be obnoxious or a smart alec, so it didn't really irk him. What did bother him was there was no way he could find to track the ring down before people started dying. "So how do we find the ring?"

"We don't. It finds us."

-----


	4. Chapter 4 Availing Ariel

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Chapter Four – **Availing Ariel**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Ariel turned to see a smiling Sam walking towards her bearing coffee mugs in each hand. He looked like he had gotten a heck of a lot more sleep than she did. Ironic considering he was such a light sleeper. Sam was blending very well with the woods she had been over looking. Dark green sweatshirt over a chocolate t-shirt. Dark wash jeans and a khaki coloured jacket. For the first time since they had been separated the boy wasn't wearing a hooded sweatshirt. She wasn't sure if she should be happy or concerned. So instead, she smiled back at him and reached up for the beaker he was handing her.

"You know me well. Can't pass up a good sun rise."

"You never could." Sam settled himself easily beside her on the moss-covered rocks she was using as a seat. The cold took him a second to adjust to, but within a few moments, the stone started to retain his warmth. She had obviously picked this spot for the view. Perched on the side of a hill afforded you an excellent view of the splendour of daybreak.

Ariel had happily returned her gaze to the sun breaching through the forest-scape at their feet. Every since she was a child she would rise with the sun and watch its luminosity fight to reclaim the skies once more. She never felt safe in the dark. Not completely. Though given her childhood the concept wasn't that difficult to comprehend.

"It helps me deal. This job, this life, it's…rugged." She took a sip of the hot liquid. Double cream and sugar, just the way she liked it. It was amazing how something as simple as remembering how she took her coffee made her feel appreciated. "But at sunrise life's possibilities seem limitless."

"New day dawning and all that good stuff." Sam drank his coffee tentatively, as it was still quite hot.

In the four years, Sam had known Ariel she had never missed a sunrise. Even if they had been cramming for an exam all night and she only had an hours sleep, she would get up, watch the daybreak and go back to bed. It was her daily miracle. Something she looked forward to. He was glad that hadn't changed. Since their talks in the diner a couple of days ago and later in the motel the day before, he had gotten worried about her. She was convinced something crucial had changed about her. Aside from the wistful look that underlined her expression sometimes, she seemed the same. Then again, he didn't seem all that different did he? Yet so much had altered with him. It shouldn't be difficult for him to imagine drastic changes in her. Deciding to simply enjoy natures display, Sam leaned back against the rock mass behind him and soon found it made a very good backrest.

Sam started to recite a tale of a sunrise over the Grand Canyon where he and Dean had been hunting what turned out to be a rather large, rather hairy wendigo. Ariel shifted closer to Sam using his chest as a backrest listening intently and sharing her experiences in kind. The pair watched the sun carve its way through the darkness overhead, enjoying the beauty of the morning and each other's company. When the last drop of coffee was drunk and the night was just a distance memory being chased into the void Sam looked down at an extremely contented looking Ariel.

"Do you still go for a run in the morning?"

"When I haven't been up all night hunting, yes I do. Care to join me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." He grinned. It had been a long time since Sam and Ariel had ran together. They used to wake up watch the sunrise, catch up over a coffee and go for a run. They'd be back in bed before anyone knew they were gone. He missed that.

Standing in a steadied rush Ariel discarded her beaker on the top of the rock she had just vacated. She offered her hand to Sam before making her way towards a lowered clearing. She was starting to regret her outfit choice. The denim jeans, cherry tank top and matching hooded sweater she was wearing wasn't the best for running, but her runners were all that she really needed for a good trek. She had bought the white sneakers for the red check on the side and soon discovered they were extremely comfortable for running. Reaching into her side pocket, she pulled out a small black hairclip that matched the darkness of her hair. With one hand, she pulled her long hair into a ponytail and fastened it with the other. Before she could move forward again she felt a quick tug on her hair.

"You cut your hair." Sam remembered Ariel's hair used to reach her back when it was in a ponytail. Now it was brushing her shoulders. The difference in length was only really noticeable when it was pulled up.

"Yeah I know. We were cleansing a house in New Brunswick when a door slammed shut. My hair got caught on the wrong side. I had to cut it with my pocketknife to get out of there. Of course I got it evened out later." She shot Sam a humours smirk. "Is that what it's going to take to get you in a barber's chair?"

Sam gave her a bemused grin. "You know you're an odd duck, last time I had my hair short you complained for weeks that I should let it grow out. Now you want it short again?"

"Short? God, no! Just shorter." Once her feet hit level ground Ariel checked to make sure her laces where secure. They were.

"You're insufferable you know that right?" Sam was suddenly happy he had worn sneakers. The way Ariel was stretching her legs she looked like she was going for distance.

"Yeah, I know. But that's why you love me." Letting her right foot drop down lightly from her hand she adjusted her posture and took a deep breath. "Try and keep up, Sammy!"

With that, they were off like a flash, cantering down the dirt road matching but never exceeding the other's speed. Ariel didn't particularly enjoy running, it was the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of autonomy that drove her. It took all her pent up frustration along with excess nervous energy and turned it into a form of gratification. Wind whipped at her face reminding her of speed she was achieving. She loved that feeling. No restrictions, no past and no future beyond the next bend in the path. Suddenly she stopped dead. Sam followed suit within seconds.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked her with a puzzled, slightly winded expression.

She walked towards him reaching down for his left ankle; she probed it with her fingers. The way he flinched recounted of a mild sprain. "Why didn't you tell me your ankle was bothering you?"

The look of shock on Sam's face made her realize what she had just done. Thinking quickly she covered with some lame explanation about him favouring his leg and how she had seen his speed decrease. But the truth was she had felt the surge of pain that had hit him in that moment. And judging by the way he was looking at her, he knew it too.

-----

Ch. 11

-----

Brooke woke up with a jolt, taser in hand. Someone was unlocking the front door. She lied still, keeping her breath controlled in rhythmic bursts, mimicking sleep. The door opened in a flood of light and was quickly shut behind the intruder.

"Morning sunshine!"

Ariel. Thank God. She shoved the taser back in place and flipped on to her side to face her sister. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she watched her sister carefully. "You're in a good mood. Did you have a good run?"

"Yep." Ariel was sure to keep her voice light and made a mad dash for the shower. If her sister saw the look on her face, she would know instantly that something was wrong. That someone knew her secret. Sam hadn't said a word on the way back to the motel. Neither had she. She could feel his understanding the minute it dawned on him. He knew. Dammit.

Slamming the door shut with unnecessary force, she stared into the mirror. Why was this happening to her? It seemed like the harder she tried to fight it, the stronger its pull.

He hadn't reacted the way she had expected. She had expected him to freak out and demand to know what she could do and how. He had just looked at her. Concern and curiosity had filled him yet he had said nothing, just waited for her to say something. What could she say? He had discovered a secret she couldn't share. A secret that put she and her sister in danger. Yet she couldn't help but feel relief. He hadn't been troubled by it. He hadn't pushed her and he hadn't pulled away. He had just run by her side until she couldn't run anymore. When she had opened her mouth to explain only for nothing to come out, he had just given her a sympathetic smile and hugged her.

Maybe it wasn't such a big deal.

Pulling out her hair clip, she placed it on the rim of the sink under the mirror as she looked herself square in the eyes. Who was she kidding? It was a huge deal.

She shed her clothes and turned on the shower, making sure the water was a good temperature before entering it. As the hot water relaxed her tense muscles, she tried to figure how she was going to tell Brooke. Her sister would kill her.

-----

"You're up awfully early aren't you?"

Dean glanced at Brooke and made a grunting sound before pouring the last of his coffee down his throat. The minor scalding helped to wake him up.

"Sam woke me up."

Did he ever. Sam had rushed into the motel room like someone had lit a fire under his ass. He hadn't even mentioned what had lit the flame, he'd just flipped open the laptop and started typing furiously. Whatever had happened, Sam hadn't felt like sharing. The keystroking had driven Dean out of bed and straight into the shower. When he had gotten out Sam had still been scouring the internet. Suffering from hunger he had dressed quickly and headed towards the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee.

Brooke looked Dean up and down; he clearly needed more sleep. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed and threw on his jeans, a black t-shirt, and jean jacket. The only reason she knew he hadn't slept in his clothes was because his hair was still damp and his clothes were dry.

"Rough night?" She asked, shoving her grey tank top farther down her jeans after removing her denim jacket and placing it on the back of her chair. She settled in the stool next to Dean, hooking her heels on to the stool's bar under her.

"I couldn't really sleep." He shrugged. He knew why, but he didn't think Brooke would appreciate knowing her little sister was the cause of his sleep deprivation. The look in her eyes when he had pulled her into his arms had haunted his dreams.

"You either, huh?" Brooke picked up Dean's fork, stabbing a piece of bacon off his plate before plopping it in her mouth. Canadian bacon, smoky and cooked to perfection.

Dean scowled at Brooke for stealing his food but was more intrigued by her comment to call her on it. "Either?"

"Ari was tossing and turning all night. I wanted to knock her out just so I could get some sleep. I swear sometimes that girl makes me want to strangle her." She stole another piece of bacon off his plate before he grabbed his fork anyway from her.

"Can I get you something, sweetheart?" The distant voice of the Silver Spoon waitress carried over the counter. Her question stopped Dean from inquiring after Ariel's sleep pattern. It was for the best. Brooke would probably see right through it. Dean refocused his attention on the newspapers he had laid out in front of him.

"Yeah I'll have what he's having and a coffee." Brooke looked at Dean for a moment. "Get him another cup too."

"Do I look that bad?"

"You always look like shit." Flicking her hair away from her eyes, she shot him a wicked grin.

Dean returned the smirk; Brooke always knew how to make a guy feel good.

The waitress walked towards them, coffee pot and mug in either hand. She placed the mug in front of Brooke and poured the hot liquid just shy of the brim. She did the same for Dean's cup and headed back into the kitchen for Brooke's order.

Dean reached over the counter for the sugar, placing it in front of Brooke.

"You still take it with sugar, right?"

She gave him a quick smile. "Yeah."

Dean never forgot things like that. It was what made him such a good hunter. Brooke stared at her coffee for a moment. He was a good hunter. They needed his help on this job. She had been so mad at him she had let that fact slide from her mind. She still couldn't get past the question she needed answered; if he was such a good hunter why, hadn't he been there when it had really counted?

"When did you paint the Mustang?"

Mentally moving off her thought train, she thought about his question. "Last year. The black got old."

"Black?" It had been four years since they had seen each other, but he distinctly remembered the car being red with racing strips.

"Yeah I painted it black after-" The words stuck in her throat. She had painted the car black after Blake had died. She shook her head clear of the memory and continued as though it hadn't entered her mind. "Red wasn't that great a colour for our work."

"No kidding." Dean glanced back at the woman, who was so determined to forget the past that she had painted her car in hopes of moving on. She wore her pain like a suit of iron. "You know, it might help if you talk about it."

"This coming from the click flick police!" She wasn't ready to talk about it. She never would be. Blake was gone. What more was there to say?

Dean took the hint and changed the subject to hauntings. Brooke may still hate him but he was still her friend. He didn't want to push her. He never talked about anything, why should he expect her too? Especially when they had to work together.

Brooke jumped on the new subject with false vigour. Anything was better than thinking of the past.

The two continued swapping hunting stories over breakfast. The easy exchange reminded Brooke of how much she had missed Dean. Jackass or no, he was good company. More importantly, he got her. Dean knew her better than everyone else, with the exception of maybe her sister. The two of them had more things in common than she cared to admit. That's probably why her father had freaked out when he had learned the two were friends. Her father had gotten his shotgun the minute he'd seen Dean pull up the driveway with Brooke in the passenger seat. After John had convinced him not to kill his eldest son, he had very calmly set the pair down and poignantly forbid them from seeing each other. After a few exchanged looks, Brooke and Dean had burst into laughter.

Brooke started laughing in remembrance.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked her with a half smile. The chill had fallen from her eyes and her laughter, though unexpected, was welcomed.

"You remember when our dads thought we were dating?"

"God. I still remember that shot gun. Dude, I thought he was going to kill me."

"He was." She smirked. Dean had explained, rather hastily, that Brooke and he were just friends. Period. She wasn't his type and he certainly was not hers. All the while, her father had been watching him like a hawk, deciding whether or not he was telling the truth or trying to save his ass. "I never did thank you for covering for me, did I?"

"Covering?"

"Yeah, all you had to do was tell him I was with Blake that night and he would have taken you out of his cross hairs."

Dean chuckled. "Blake was my friend. I couldn't let your Dad kill him. Besides he calmed down eventually."

"Yeah after he cuffed your wrist to the bed post." The laughter that followed threw her red hair back over her shoulders when she remembered the look on Dean's face.

"Yeah I never figured that one out." Dean was laughing now too. That had been a long night.

"Sorry, just Dad's idea of birth control."

"Did he ever find out?" Dean tilted his head in silent query.

"About Blake? God, no. If he knew-" She swallowed, thinking of her father's overprotective manner.

"He would have killed him." Dean finished her thought. He knew Frank's protective side came out in a vengeance when it came to his girls.

Brooke lifted the white coffee mug to her lips, testing the temperature before taking a gulp. It was no Tim Horton's, but it was good. Giving Dean a knowing smile, she agreed. "Oh, yeah."

-----

Ch. 12

-----

"What now?" Ariel stared at her sister. She was pissed off. Though lately she was pissed off quite frequently.

"Flirt with him!" Brooke gave her sister a frank smile leaving nothing to the imagination. She knew if Ariel tried hard enough it just might work.

"Are you crazy?" The horror of having to use her feminine assets for the purpose of yet another con was becoming even more disconcerting. Though she knew how to get the job done, Brooke was usually better suited to such tasks. Men were generally drawn to her heeled boots and come-hither smile.

Brooke made a frustrated sound. She knew she should have sent Ariel in first with the bogus badges, and then she wouldn't need to throw her sister at this guy to get what they needed. She had hoped that she and Dean could convince the stubborn son of a bitch to volunteer the information. Despite believing they were cops, he hadn't budged.

Whether she liked it or not, they needed this information. "Do you want the ring or not?" Brooke definitely did not like it.

"Fine." The tone in her voice managed to say everything she wouldn't. She would do it, but she wasn't going to be pleasant about it.

Ariel set her jaw in determination and quickly got out of the car. Grabbing her jade coloured jacket from the front seat and pulling her white tank top back in place over her denim skirt before slamming the door shut. The fact that her sister hadn't been able to convince the funeral director to give them any information wasn't all that shocking. Brooke didn't at all look like a Mounty at the moment. Grey tank top and denim jacket and jeans with three-inch heels weren't exactly standard issue. Dean standing there beside her in similar clothes probably hadn't helped.

Ariel started to head towards the main entrance when she felt a hand grasp her arm.

"Take Sam."

"How am I suppose to flirt with that guy with another man standing right there Brooke?"

"Be creative. I just don't want you alone in there."

"Okay." As much as she hated this entire situation, Brooke was right. The place was a minefield and she knew it.

Ariel continued towards the entrance stopping at the black Impala crouched in the parking lot. Leaning into the driver's side window as if Dean wasn't there, she looked directly at Sam and gave him an extra wide smile.

"Alright Sammy. It's our turn."

"Are we going to show them how it's done?"

"You wish!" Dean asserted himself. He wasn't enjoying being ignored, yet Ariel had managed to do just that all morning.

Ariel glanced at him causally as though he was a spot on the upholstery and turned her back to window, leaning against the doorframe to wait patiently for Sam. Sam hid his smile as he pulled on the door lever and exited the car. Ariel had told him about Dean's little stunt last night. He was lucky she was looking at him at all. Rounding the car front, he joined Ariel and continued on to the entrance of the North Bay Region Funeral Home. As they approached the red-bricked building entrance, Ariel looped her arm in his and stopped moving, bringing him to a halt. He turned to ask her why she had paused only to see the look on her face. Her features were frozen in fear.

"What's wrong?"

Ariel knew what awaited her inside. There were easily at least a dozen people that had died in the last week alone. Their mourners waited just inside those walls. Mourners reeling from the pain of loss. A pain she would be forced to feel at length.

"I just forgot where we were going for a minute." She tired to fake a smile and failed miserably.

"I can do this myself, Ari." Sam wasn't entirely sure what was going on with Ariel but he guessed she was had some strong extrasensory capability. The way she seemed to know even more than was normal for her had been showing through her words and actions since they had reunited. A funeral home full of emotionally wrecked people probably wasn't the best place for her.

"No you can't." She gave Sam a look she usually reserved for Brooke. One that showed off every bit of Cooper conclusion in her bones.

Sam didn't bother to argue. He knew it was already a lost battle.

Gripping his right khaki clad arm tightly she feigned composure and spoke in a hushed tone. "Look upset."

"Huh?"

"Look crushed and distraught. Don't make eye contact and stay distant." Ariel stepped forward and grabbed the door handle firmly in right hand. Mentally preparing herself for the shock her system was about to get she turned her head to glance back at Sam. "Don't let me out of your sight."

-----

Dean watched Brooke change the radio station for the thirtieth time. "Any particular reason you're so anxious?"

Brooke's expression stopped him from saying anything else. She stared at him with icy blue eyes that had lost all sense of warmth yet again. Dean realized that she looked like that often. Cold and distant. Quite the opposite of the woman who literally could hit on a guy in a crowded bar without saying a word.

"I'm worried. I don't like the fact that I had to use my sister as bait. And toss her straight into the wolves den."

"Wolves den? What are you talking about? She's just going to simper and flirt her way into the guy's office long enough for her to get what we need. One small beady-eyed guy. She could take him down." Dean shut the radio off after Brooke changed the station for the thirty-first time. She was worried as hell.

"What's going on Brooke? You trying to tell me you haven't schooled this girl?"

"In what, minx-ing?" The thought brought a smile to her lips. It left as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh she can simper and flirt with the best of them."

"Then why are you a ball of nerves? She looks like she can handle herself."

"She can."

"Then?"

Brooke gave him a sideways glance. "I can't explain. Don't you ever worry about Sam?"

Dean pulled his sunglasses back in place and leaned back into his seat. "No."

"Liar."

----

"Excuse me, Mrs. Simon?"

"Miss Simon, yes." Ariel made sure to emphasize the first word. She followed her words with a smile meant to emphasize the meaning of her words.

"Oh. My name is Reggie Giller. I'm the director here at NBR funeral home. I understand you wish to speak with me."

"I do, yes. But do you mind if we go to your office? I don't feel like having this discussion in the waiting room." Ariel glanced quickly at the small group of people scattered about the taupe wallpapered waiting area. There were enough chairs to comfortably seat a small church congregation, though she doubted the room was even used to its full capacity.

"Of course. If that would make you more comfortable."

"It would." It wasn't a lie. Though most of the mourners were in specific areas of the large building, there was a couple in the corner crying intermittently. She didn't know who they had lost, but judging by the heartache they were shouldering she guessed they had just lost their child. There were few things in the world that caused that amount of pain. The loss of one's child definitely topped that list.

"After you." Mr. Giller motioned towards the dark wood door at the back of the room surrounded by glass panels, bringing Ariel out of her thoughts long enough to respond. She started walking past the configured waiting chairs towards the door. Before putting too much distance between her and Sam, she looked over her shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Terrance, I'll be back in just a moment."

Sam said nothing. He acknowledged Ariel knew what she was doing. So far, she had managed to get Mr. Giller to see her without an appointment despite his secretary's fervent claims that he couldn't possibly see anyone today. It had been interesting watching her lie her way in. He could tell she was bullshitting her way through, but oddly enough, no one else seemed to notice. She had an 'I know what I'm doing' confidence that reminded him of Dean. Yet, despite the façade, every time someone walked by in anguish, she twinged.

When the door closed behind them, Sam casually rose and slowly walked towards the door, sitting in a taupe chair close enough to see into the glass paned office.

"So, how can I help you, Miss Simon?"

"Please, call me Theresa. This is a lovely office you have here." Ariel made a point of skimming the room. More taupe and lots of fishing trophies and other paraphernalia. The room reminded her of a tackle box.

"Thank you, Theresa."

"Well Reggie, can I call you Reggie?" Not waiting for his response she continued. "My brother, Terry has been diagnosed with an endoplasmic disorder. He doesn't have that much longer, so as you can imagine I'm eager to make all the needed arrangements."

The thirty something man looked taken aback. His mousy russet eyebrows drawn into deep arches he glanced back at the waiting room without really seeing it. "Your brother? The man outside?"

"Yes." Ariel made sure to flash fervour in her green eyes in answer to his question.

"He seems so healthy." Reggie looked at the beautiful woman sitting in his office trying to match any family resemblance to the young man in the waiting room. She was much shorter, darker haired and fairer skinned.

"Seems being the operative word." Ariel crossed her legs and folded her hands lightly on her discarded jade jacket draped over her lap.

"Of course." He straightened instantly realizing he was staring at her crossed legs. Clearing his throat he quickly directed his attention back to his job. "There are several coordinators available for consultation."

Ariel gave him a vivid smile. "I don't need a consultation." Making sure to draw his attention back to her legs by uncrossing and then re-crossing them, she flippantly drew small circles on the top of her knee. She was suddenly glad she had worn a denim skirt.

"So how can I help you?" Reggie's puzzled look return quickly though he didn't take his eyes off her legs this time.

"Well the watch he's wearing, he wants to be buried with it. The problem is my father and I gave it to him for he's twenty-first birthday." She paused pretending to remove some lint off of her tank top in order to give him ample time to catch her drift.

"And you would prefer not to bury it six feet under ground?" He asked lifting his left brow slightly.

"Exactly. Reggie, I knew you would understand." Leaning forward in her chair, silently Ariel started to go through the checklist in her mind. Establish connection. Set tone. Turn on the charm.

-----

Ariel gripped Sam's arm to keep herself from falling over. A funeral was moments away from beginning and about one hundred or so mourners had gathered in the chapel area at the center of the building with dozens more heading in that direction. Though several feet away, their emotions were so strong she couldn't focus. Her head was starting to implode. She had to get out; the pain was so intense she couldn't move.

Sam knew he had to get her out of there and fast. However, weaving through the collecting crowd was like trying to run through quicksand. Pointless.

The family of the deceased entered the main hallway and started to walk towards the chapel and the wail Ariel let out before she went to the floor ripped through him. He dropped instantly and wrapped his arms around her speaking to her in soft tones. "Focus on me. Try to focus only on me." He cradled her head against his chest and continued trying to reassure her. The tension in her body told him she couldn't hear him.

"Ariel!" Brooke was frantic; she couldn't find her sister in any of the small waiting rooms or alcoves. When people had started pulling up to the funeral home and piling in she had practically ripped the door off the car to get out. The thought of Ariel being in the building surrounded by a memorial service was too atrocious to consider.

"Can you see her?" Dean's voice carried easily over the group of people between Brooke and himself. She shook her head and moved further into the crowd. He skimmed the crowds again. For just a moment, he saw a head of coffee brown hair above the crowd then nothing.

"Sam." He called to him.

When Sam heard his name, he stood quickly. Seeing Dean and Brooke didn't ease his anxiety in the least. He knew there was no way to get to them. Not until the service started and people filed into the chapel.

"Where is she?" Dean could see the panic written in every crease of Sam's brow. Ariel was nowhere in sight. When he saw Sam look down and disappear from view he knew. Turning to Brooke he yelled, "He's got her." Trying to move in between the crowds but only making a few inches head way, Dean's frustration came to a head.

"Get the hell out of my way!" Instead of nudging people out of the way, he practically moved them himself. Taking the easiest path he could find he shoved and pushed his way to Sam.

When he came within a few feet of his brother he looked down and there on the floor wrapped in Sam's arms was a trembling Ariel. She looked at though a bus had hit her. Dean didn't wait a second longer, he jostled the last few feet to them and pulled Sam off his knees, Ariel still bundled in his arms.

"We've got to get her out of here, Dean."

"You think, Sammy?" Giving his brother an infuriated stare before he looked back over the crowd, he tried to judge the best path to take. "Come on, follow me."

Dean started to shove his way back. When his brother lagged behind a few steps he turned to see that some of the crowd gathered was surrounding them, inquiry after the young woman doubled over in pain in his Sam's arms.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" He turned on his heels, grabbing Ariel from Sam's arms, losing her white sandals in the process; he proceeded to bowl over the people who weren't smart enough to get out of his way. Brooke had worked her way towards them and was tunnelling her way through the crowd yelling for people to get the hell out of her way.

Forcing the door open with a manic determination Brooke held the door opened as Dean and Sam rushed past. They all made a beeline for the parking lot. Once he reached the impala, Dean sat Ariel on the trunk. She was shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down her eyes, and all the colour had drained from her face. Her voice had gone hoarse from the screams that had caught in her throat.

"Jesus!" Dean held her face in his palms wiping her tears with his thumbs, trying to get some colour back in her cheeks and attempting to let her know she was safe.

"Dean-" Her teeth chattering, she looked at him as her voice broke.

"It's okay." Dean whispered. "You're okay."

"He wasn't buried with the ring."

-----


	5. Chapter 5 Sense and Insensiblity

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Chapter Five – **Sense and Insensibility**

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Ariel woke up in a fog. All she could feel were the echoes of pain that still lingered in her mind. Blinking and trying to make out her surroundings, she realized she was back in her motel room. She wasn't alone. Sitting across from her on the adjacent bed Sam was looking through the ophidian file making notes on a pad of paper in his lap. Ariel didn't move, she wasn't sure if she wanted to go over what had happened and how she got back in the motel room just yet. The last thing she remembered was telling Dean the ring hadn't been buried with Erin Wallace. Then it had all gone dark. The memory punched her hard, causing her to quickly inhale. Oh my God, she had passed out in his arms. Dammit all to hell.

Sam glanced over at Ariel when he heard her rhythmic breathing sharpen and intensify. She was awake. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a bus." It certainly wasn't a lie. She had experienced over two hundred people's grief, guilt and pain all at once. She was lucky all she'd done was pass out. The pressure could have killed her, and she knew it.

He quickly set aside the open file and notepad. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to face Ariel, he gave her an inquisitive look. "Brooke was feeding Dean and me some agoraphobia story, but I seriously doubt you are suffering from some phobic neurosis." He reached over and lifted the cool white cloth that had been resting on her forehead. Getting up to wet the cloth with more cold water, he returned quickly and replaced it on her forehead once more.

She gave him a thankful smile and held the cloth close to her temple. As much as she wanted to confirm Brooke's recounting, she knew the truth and so did he. "You already know what happened Sam."

"I know you have psychic abilities, yes. What they are I'm not totally clear on. I think I've ruled out telepathy."

She was far too tired to skirt around the issue. "I'm empathic."

"That explains a lot." Her reaction to the crowd at the NBR Funeral home had been brimming with pain. Empathy would easily explain why she had burst into tears and buckled at exposure to the crowd of mourners.

"You don't seem too shocked." Ariel rubbed her eyes, hoping to help them focus. Her senses had barely started to shed the trauma she had endured. Her body was reacting to the pent up emotions like they had been strong liquor. She had a wicked hang over.

"Should I be?" Sam shrugged. "There are lots of situations where people become prone to psychic tendencies." Himself included.

She could see Sam's tranquil demeanour as he calmly observed her breathing and readjusted her pillows, but couldn't feel anything. He was so close; she should feel something, anything. The sensation was foreign and a little disconcerting. However, it reminded her of their past, when her only way of knowing how Sam had felt was to measure his expressions and mannerisms. For the first time in over a year, she couldn't sense anything. For the first time in over a year, she felt normal.

"You haven't always been an empath have you?" He didn't think she was but he had to be sure. He needed to know if her knack at understanding him was just her abilities or if it had truly been their friendship. He hoped it was the latter.

"No. It's a fairly new thing. Just over a year."

Sam stared at Ariel. "Before or after you left Stanford?"

"After." She was lying, but she didn't want to tell him she had started becoming sensitive to others emotions a few days before Jess had died.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding. Why was he so relieved? Shaking his head slightly he focused on a question he had wanted answered more. "Is it always painful?"

"When I fight it."

Sam nodded. What was that in his voice? It almost sounded like sympathy. Before she had a chance to ask Sam about what his expression held, the front door swung open with a hurried bang.

Brooke rushed in, throwing her denim bag on the table before she moved toward her sister's bed. "Hey yah Air-Bear, how you feeling?"

"Peachy!" Ariel followed her lie with a devious smile. She may not be feeling well, but she was loving feeling only her own emotions for once.

"Cute." Brooke rolled her eyes and swatted her little sister. Ariel had some nerve being a smart mouth after the stunt she'd pulled.

"Air-Bear?" The ends of Sam's mouth turned up into a smirk. That was definitely a new one.

Ariel shot Sam a cutting look. "Shut up."

Brooke ignored the two and looked around the room. "Where's Dean?"

"He isn't with you?" Sam asked, puzzled.

Brooke turned to face Sam. "No. He said there was something he had to get before heading back. Guess it took longer than he thought."

"Probably." Sam gave her a quick smile before turning his gaze back to the file in front of him.

"Would you mind checking your room for him? I want to have a little chat with Ari."

Ariel gave Sam a knowing smile. Big siblings were so predictable. And judging by the smile he returned he knew exactly what Brooke wanted to discuss. He shifted off the bed and without a word walked out the front door, making sure it closed firmly behind him.

Brooke whipped back around to Ariel the second the door clicked shut. "How are you really?" Concern lined her voice.

"I'm okay. I just can't feel anything for the first time."

"What do you mean?" Brooke plopped herself down on the bed Sam had abandoned.

"I think my brain overloaded. I can't sense anything. All I can feel are the echoes from the funeral." Ariel lifted off the cloth on her forehead and sat up, propping herself up with her hands.

Brooke's expression was one of surprised bewilderment. "Is that good or bad?"

Ariel tilted her head off to the side and thought for a moment. "Both."

"Ari, I'm sorry I didn't-"

Not giving her a chance to finish, Ari cut off her words with a wave of her hand. "How were you supposed to know the mayor died Brooke?"

"I should have checked to see if there were any services planned. I never should have let you go in there. I almost got you killed." What the hell had she been thinking? She knew what danger an empath could encounter at a funeral home. Why hadn't she been more prepared?

"Brooke, stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"It's not your job to protect me. Stop getting down on yourself."

A light tap on the front door stopped Brooke from correcting her sister. It was her job to protect her. At all costs.

"You can come in Sam."

The door opened and Sam walked back into the room with his hands up and his palms open. "He's not there. And his cars' not in the parking lot."

"Takes that man forever to do anything." Brooke stood up and started to head out the door before turning to face Sam and Ariel. "I'm heading to the diner, you want anything?"

"Food." Ariel rubbed her stomach, she hadn't eaten lunch. At the mention of food, her stomach had jumped to full attention.

Brooke opened the door and started heading through it. "I'll surprise you."

-----

"Brooke's looking for you." Ariel casually pushed aside the file she was reading when she heard Dean enter the room.

"Surprise." Dean huffed. Brooke had a knack for keeping tabs on him. "How are you feeling?"

"How do I look like I'm feeling?" She had been sleeping on and off since the funeral this morning.

Dean gave her a methodical appraisal. Aside from her hair being slightly messed from sleep, she looked fine. Better than fine actually. She was still wearing that denim skirt and white tank top. Her eyes were a bright green and her colour had returned. No, she looked quite nice, indeed.

Ariel lifted her brows into high arches as she waited for Dean's answer. He had looked her over from top to bottom and back again until his gaze rested upon her feet. "Well?"

"You forgot something." He lifted his arm to reveal two small white sandals dangling from his fingers.

She smiled at him gratefully and sat up. She loved those sandals. They had the perfect wedge heel. She could run comfortably in them, as she had discovered one day when a harpy had attacked her unexpectedly.

"Where were they?"

"Must have come off at the funeral home." Dean placed the sandals on the table next to the open laptop. He glanced at the computer and noticed Erin Wallace's obituary was upon the screen.

"Thanks Dean."

He turned back to look at Ariel, and he looked a bit confused. "For what?"

"Going back to get them." She stood and walked towards the table to retrieve her sandals.

Dean shrugged. "It's no big deal."

But the smile she gave him told him it was. Dean ran his hands through his hair and handed the white straps of leather to her. She went on her tip toes to brush his cheek with a kiss but somehow missed the mark, landing instead on his lips. Realizing instantly what she had done she backed up the second their lips met. The kiss had been so unexpected and so brief that neither knew what to make of it.

"Okay, I was thinking that if the ring wasn't buried it most likely would have been-" Sam stopped dead in his tracks. When he had left, Ariel was lying down and making notes in the ophidian file alone. Now she and Dean were standing very close to each other. "Hey Dean." The look on his brother's face made him do a double take. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No." They said in unison. Ariel darted back to the bed she had abandoned and refastened her sandals while Dean sat himself in front of the laptop and stared intently at the screen.

"Right." Sam said under his breath. If they had been any closer, Sam was certain the room would have started steaming up.

-----

"My bet is on the Mom or the brother." Dean popped his last French fry into his mouth before reaching over to grab another from Brooke's plate. She was too busy looking at a newspaper clipping to notice.

"I have to agree with you on that one." Looking down at her slowly emptying plate Brooke added with a roiled tone. "If you eat anymore of my food I'm going to chain you to my back bumper, Winchester!"

Dean didn't bother to hold back his laughter. "You'd try."

"Well who ever has it, I doubt they know they're in danger." Ariel gave her sister a quick let it go look as she dumped her half-eaten fries on to Dean's plate. She had had more than enough already and she didn't really want her sister to kill him. Judging by the look on Brooke's face, she wanted nothing more than to chain the guy up and drag his ass down the gravel road. Ever since she had come back from the diner, she had been in a bad mood. And for the first time in a long time, Ariel had no idea why. She was starting to enjoy being normal again.

"Their only in danger if they put on the ring." Brooke glared at her sister. She had a deep seeded feeling something was going on with her and Dean the minute she'd walked in and seen Ariel's sandals. The fact that neither of them had really looked at each other this entire time only fired her suspicions. "The ring itself is harmless."

Dean gave Ariel a quick smile of thanks before he happily started munching on Ariel's fries. "Brooke, that's not entirely true. The ring-"

"Can't harm you if you're not wearing it and the person wearing it doesn't want you dead." Brooke snapped. She already knew Dean would want to destroy the ring on sight. And she knew she couldn't let that happen.

"How does it work then?" Sam could see the under currents coursing through the room. Brooke looked like she wanted to reach over and strangle Dean. Ariel joined him on the bed and deliberately stuck her nose in the ophidian file. Dean was doing everything possible to keep from looking at Ariel for more than a few seconds, though he was failing miserably.

"The ring grants the wearer's every desire. Every whim and want. When the wearer is completely, and I mean completely, satisfied, on the night of the new moon they die from a cobra bite." Ariel made sure not to look up from the file when she spoke. She knew Dean was staring at her. She could feel his eyes on her like a caress.

"Why isn't all of that in the file?" Sam enquired flippantly looking over Ariel's shoulder into the file.

"Because I only write down what I need." Brooke gave Sam an amused smile.

"And what can be safely read by authorities if it's confiscated." Ariel chimed in.

"Have that problem a lot do you?" Dean smirked. He had gotten Brooke arrested almost as much as she had gotten him locked up.

"Only when you're around!" Brooke threw him a warning expression that somehow missed the mark of being vicious. She couldn't keep the glint of humour out of her eyes when she thought back to one weekend in South Dakota when she had deliberately gotten him busted twice in one day for scratching her car. "Dean you're like a magnet for handcuffs."

"I've started carrying paperclips." Dean japed.

Brooke couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not surprised!"

"So what about this ring haven't you told us?" Sam prompted through the smile on his face.

"Haven't told you. I already know everything about this damn thing." Dean shoved the few remaining fries around his plate and chewed intently as he read through the paper clipping Brooke had discarded.

"How?" Ariel couldn't hold back her curiosity. How did Dean know so much about this ring?

"You know all the chicken scratch in there?" Brooke pointed to the file sitting in her sister's lap.

"Yeah." Ariel's face maintained a bemused look.

"It's his. We worked this case before." Looking at Dean from the side of her eyes, she continued. "Unsuccessfully I might add."

"Hey you can't pin that one on me!" Dean got his back up instantly. Brooke was always blaming him for everything. If her tire went flat, it was his fault. If it rained, it was his fault. Eventually they were going to have to get everything out in the open because he was starting to get pissed off.

"I'm not. But you were the one who spent the whole trip sucking face with that blonde." Brooke gripped noticing her sister's eyes fix on Dean for an instant before returning to the open file.

"I did not." Dean protested.

"Yeah, yeah, Dean I know. You're a professional. Whatever."

"The ring?" Sam was starting to get tired of controlling the conversations Brooke and Dean had. They some how always managed to run off topic and back into the past. This had to stop.

"Oh yeah, the ring popped up in North America in about the ninetieth century from what we can tell." Brooke stated matter-of-factly.

"From where?" Sam looked intently at Brooke and Dean sitting at the table across from each other they had done a lot of legwork on this case.

"Egypt is my guess." Brooke tossed a colour photo of the ring on the bed in front of Sam and Ariel. "The ring is in the form of an Egyptian asp."

"I thought it was a cobra?" Sam studied the picture noting that the eye gems that Brooke had earlier described as rubies were in fact black. The picture was a blow up of small image and the edges were fuzzy but he could still make out the snake's golden form.

"In antiquity asp refers to a venomous snake from the Nile delta region in Egypt." Brooke glanced up at Sam before she finished her remaining fries and reached for her coffee.

"It's generally assumed to refer to the Egyptian cobra." Dean added as he stood to refill his coffee cup.

Sam stared at his brother intensely, trying to figure out where that statement had come from. "Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?"

"You don't have the corner on paper chasing Sammy!" Dean scoffed as he filled the white mug with the dark liquid. He needed all the help he could get. This day was far from over.

"Like I said, we've worked on this case before." Brooke said with a huge grin on her face.

"Clearly." Sam leaned back against the pillow he was using as a brace noticing that Ariel had managed to steal the other pillow while he wasn't paying attention.

"Look before we go any further I think we should make absolutely sure the ring isn't with Erin's corpse. I don't want to go stirring up trouble for something that might be taken care of." Ariel knew all to well that digging where there was no cause always bought trouble, usually in the form of handcuffs.

Dean met her gaze and gave her one of his cocky half smiles. "Already done."

"What?" Ariel said, the disbelief ringing clear through her voice.

"Erin Wallace was cremated last week." Brooke almost laughed at her sister's shock. It had been a few hours since this morning's fiasco. What did she think they had been doing during that time, watching her sleep?

Ariel could hardly believe her ears. "What?"

"While you were taking your cat nap we went to the cemetery. The guy is stuck in a wall." Brooke added dryly. She was not going to take any chances, she was going to find that ring at all cost. "If it makes you feel any better we're planning to crack it open just in case."

"But we need to go at night. I can't see them letting us crack it open in broad day light." Dean knew Brooke preferred the break first, fix later method that he so often employed. However, given the small town they were in it wasn't all that advisable. Maybe he was getting wiser in his old age.

"If he was cremated, why bother?" Ariel postulated, shifting slightly to maintain her semi-sitting position while using Sam as an armrest.

"Sometimes people place small objects in the urn before it's sealed in the vault." Sam added while he gave Ariel a sideways glance. First, she stole his pillow and now she was using his chest as an armrest.

Brooke smirked at her sister. "Better safe then sorry."

"My money is still on the family." Dean added with a curt nod. His gut instincts had never let him down.

"Okay, well assuming the funeral home gave the ring back to the family; it's either in Jacko Point with the Mother or North Bay with the brother. Either way we need to talk to them." Brooke drained the last of her coffee down her throat and set the cup aside. All this talking was starting to tax her patience.

"And say what, do you happen to have a cursed ring that magically fulfills desires and will kill you if you wear it?" Ariel didn't hesitate to show her feelings on the subject. She knew her sister well enough to know she was getting restless. But they couldn't just run around half-cocked. They needed a plan. A real plan.

Sam laughed. "We'd be wearing handcuffs by sun down."

"Or straight jackets." Ariel added, her tone dead serious.

"What would you suggest?" Brooke snipped, crossing her arms and legs in annoyance.

"Whatever story we go with it better be consistent and well thought out. If the Mother and son are close he already knows about us."

"Any ideas?" Sam had a feeling Ariel was already formulating a plot by her tone.

"Actually, yes." Ariel looked down at Sam and smiled from ear to ear. "Do you remember anything from those art history classes Sammy?"

Sam looked up into Ariel's devious green eyes. She was cooking up something in that head of hers. "Yeah?"

-----

"This is crazy."

"Just shut up and smile. I'll do all the talking." Ariel made sure she didn't take her eyes off the doorway as she heard the locks unlatch. When the door slid open, her mouth set in a large smile. "Good morning Mrs. Wallace. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do dear." Mrs. Wallace gave Ariel a saccharine smile and fixed her gaze on the tall man standing in front of her. The smile she was wearing dropped instantly. "I remember you both quite well."

Ariel cursed silently; when Sam had said Dean had a way with older women, she hadn't realized it was an adverse one. She knew she should have brought Sam with her, but in the back of her mind, she knew Dean and Brooke wouldn't be able to pull this off by themselves. With Brooke's temper the way it was, she needed Sam with her to keep a lid on things. Dean's rakish attitude would only make things worst. "Mrs. Wallace this is Dean Richards. He-"

"I thought you said your name was Nigel something from the Globe and Mail," Mrs. Wallace cut Ariel off with her words and looked the young man in front of her up and down, noting every detail in his black t-shirt, jeans and a heavy denim jacket. He was still wearing the same scruffy black boots. Whatever the pair had to say, she decided it should be interesting.

"He lied," Ariel cut in just as Dean was opening his mouth to say something that would un-doubtingly get them into trouble. "He actually works for an art collector in Toronto. He and his friend often masquerade as reporters to ascertain information about objects they are seeking to acquire."

"Oh, and you know him how?" Mrs. Wallace's curiosity was written in each line of her face. The young woman in front of her was dressed neatly in a dark denim skirt and jade coloured jacket with a white shirt beneath it. White purse and sandals completed the outfit. Her black hair was tied back in a tight coil on top of her head. She looked much as she had the day Mrs. Wallace had met her, groomed with a slight air of professionalism, despite her casual attire.

"Awhile back we crossed paths while I was working on a story on Egyptian art. It appears the same thing has reoccurred." Ariel searched the older woman's face to see how much of this crap she believed. For the first time in a several hours, she was starting to miss her empathic gift.

"Why don't we sit down and you can explain it to me." Mrs. Wallace gestured to some rattan wicker chairs sitting on her front porch. She was interested to find out exactly how a reporter and an art hunter had returned to her doorstep and what the two could possibly want from her.

"Well, the story I'm working on has taken a little turn."

-----

"This isn't going to work."

"Yes it is," Sam sniped. Despite Brooke's protests, this was one of the most effective ways to find out who in the Wallace family had acquired the ring after Erin's death. Sam reached out and pressed the small black doorbell affixed to the left side of the slate stoned wall. A cheesy rendition of toccata and fugue sounded throughout the orotund two-story house.

"Are you kidding me?" Brooke tried to stifle her laughter at the ill chosen bell chime. She had heard a lot of weird rings, but this one took the cake. It played into the whole Addam's Family vibe the home's owner clearly wanted to convey. She half-expected Lurch to come answer the door. "Ten bucks there are grave markers in the backyard."

"Would you pull it together please?" Sam shot Brooke a stern expression and put on his best poker face. The sound of approaching footsteps quieted Brooke's laughter and, like Sam, she put on an equally unreadable expression.

The ominous cast iron door inched open with a loud squeak, revealing a tall slender man in a welder's suit. He looked the pair standing in his doorway over and adjusted his artificer's helmet to an upright position, exposing his face. The man appeared to be in his early thirties. He had light ash coloured hair, blue eyes, was clean-shaven, and wore silver framed glasses. His expression was one of uncertainty and inquisitiveness. "Can I help you?"

"Ethan Wallace?" Sam said tonelessly.

The man shifted slightly, looking at the causally dressed couple on his doorstep tentatively. "Yes."

"My name is Sam Peterson." Gesturing towards Brooke, Sam continued, "This is my associate Brooke Waters. She's a reporter with the Globe and Mail."

"Right. My Mother was saying some reporters stopped by the other day." Ethan looked at the young woman in front of him. She vaguely matched his mother's description. Red hair, blue eyes, jeans and heels. However, the man certainly did not match her friend's depiction. Ethan was positive his mother would not describe a six-foot plus brown haired man as a five foot something raven-haired girl. "You're a reporter as well?"

Sam watched the other man's expression carefully before answering. "No. I work for a private curator in Toronto."

"What can I do for you both?" Ethan didn't take his eyes off his unwelcome guests.

"We understand that your late brother Erin had in his possession a rather unique artefact. A ring-."

"Well I'm sorry. The ring is not for sale." Ethan closed the door firmly behind his words and latched the door shut. Ignoring the calls and repeated knocking from the pair on his porch he walked back into his workshop and made a quick observation of the work he had just completed. A beautiful eagle with its wings opened in full spread, hovering over a sea fashioned of iron. A perfectly crafted fish was being dragged from the watery depths and was semi visible in the eagle's claw. The piece itself was so magnificent Ethan was still amazed he had created it.

Removing his welding gloves, he looked down at the ring on his hand. Impossibly red rubies stared up at him from the golden head of the snake wrapped around the base of his ring finger. He had loved the look of the ring the moment his Mother had given it to him at Erin's wake. In a way, he felt like he had a piece of his brother with him. From the moment he had placed the ring on his finger he had felt a complete calmness and control that had never been present in his life up to that point. Erin had been right about this ring. It made you feel powerful. In complete control. It gave you the confidence to do or say whatever you wished without fear of reprisal. A part of him knew it was foolish to wear the ring while welding, but he didn't want to remove it. It made him feel too good. Since receiving the ring, his work had improved and grown. He was truly starting to become the artist he had always wanted to be. The kind he had always dreamed of becoming.

------

"That went well," Brooke huffed as she forced her key into its hole on the driver's side of her Mustang. Opening her car door, she elegantly slid into the front seat, leaning over to unlock the passenger's side door.

Sam easily fit his tall frame into the tan covered seat. Unzipping his khaki coloured jacket, revealing a burgundy t-shirt underneath, he nonchalantly glanced at Brooke with one of his signature smiles on his face. "Actually, it did."

"How'd you figure that Sammy-boy?" Brooke asked as she shoved her key into the ignition and brought the car roaring back to life.

"He said the ring wasn't for sale."

"Which means he has it. Well I'll be damned." Switching on her turn signal and quickly checked her blind spot before she manoeuvred the car back on to the road. "Looks like I owe your brother an apology."

"That should be interesting," Sam said under his breathe. He couldn't really see Brooke admitting Dean had been right about anything.

"But I still want to make sure," Brooke said as she turned on to a road heading in the opposite direction of Red Bridge and their motel rooms.

"Of what?" Sam asked as he readjusted his seat back to make more run for his long legs.

Brooke checked her rear-view mirror before changing lanes. "That the ring isn't with Erin."

"You're still going to break open the guy's crypt?" Sam looked at Brooke, completely mystified. He'd expect that kind of behaviour from Dean, but he had assumed, rather incorrectly, that Brooke was far more rational.

"No." Brooke clicked on the radio and reached up to the sun visor to retrieve her dark chrome sunglasses. Shooting Sam a harum-scarum grin as she placed her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and revved the engine before picking up speed. "You're going to crack it open. I'm going to watch."

------

Dean turned over the ignition and glanced at Ariel munching happily on a cookie before shifting the car into gear. "You look awfully pleased with yourself."

"We know where the ring is. This whole thing will be over within the next day or so. Yes, I'm happy indeed." Ariel chewed pensively on one of the chocolate chip cookies Mrs. Wallace had insisted they take with them.

"Miller time already?" Dean went to reach for a cookie but found one hovering over his palm before he could let go of the steering wheel. Giving Ariel a sideways glance, he accepted the cookie and turned the car back on to the main gravel road.

"I know just the place, too," Ariel said between chocolaty bites.

"Where's that?" Dean sunk his teeth into the chocolate confection with enthusiasm.

"I noticed a sign for a bar on our way in."

"So this town has a bar but no motel?" Dean cast a fleeting look into his rear-view mirror before turning his attention back to his half-eaten cookie.

"They have priorities, Dean," Ariel joked as she finished her cookie and wiped the crumbs from her tank top.

"Clearly," Dean affirmed.

"So, what do you say? I'll buy you a beer and we'll call it even." Ariel beamed.

"Even?" Dean ate the last of his cookie, chewing thoughtfully before checking his blind spot and making a lane change.

"My shoes for a beer. Fair trade, no?" Ariel pulled the hairpin holding her coiled tresses loose sending the black mass tumbling over her shoulders.

"Sounds good to me," Dean said while deliberately not looking over to watch Ariel fix her hair. He had made that mistake on the way over here and nearly hit a squirrel.

Ariel started sifting thorough the box of tapes under her seat. After discarding several cassettes, she settled on something she liked and turned the radio off. Pushing out a cassette marked Metallica from the tape deck she replaced it with a one marked BOC, switched on the player and cranked up the volume. When Ariel started patting the dashboard like a makeshift drum and singing along Dean gave her a look that was more flabbergasted then miffed.

"If you so much as say anything about drivers and house rules, I'll deck you," Ariel warned as she rolled down her window and started to tap her fingernails on the windowsill in rhythm with the beat.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Dean smiled. There was no way this girl was his little brother's best friend. She was far too entertaining.

-----

"It's not even dark yet!"

"Your point?" Brooke snapped. Sam was nothing like his older brother. She wouldn't have needed to convince Dean that they had to be absolutely sure about this. The only way to be absolutely sure was to cover all your bases. Including Erin Wallace's remains.

"I'm not breaking into a cemetery in broad daylight and smashing open a sepulchre," Sam protested.

Brooke wasn't sure if she was should be upset by it or not. Considering how much Dean bugged her, Sam was a refreshing change. "Fine. We'll grab something to eat, wait for nightfall, and then smash the sucker open."

Sam thought about for a second and then nodded. "Fine."

Brooke pulled the car off the road into a small parking lot beside a local taproom and shut off the engine. This had turned out to be a very long, very taxing day that wasn't even close to drawing to a close. "I don't know about you Sam, but I could use a drink."

"Same here."

-----

"What can I get you sir?"

Dean glanced around the modest room that was the Jacko Point Pub. The building itself looked as aged and unkempt as the barkeeper. There were no menus or signage or anything to indicate what was served or available for purchase. The old man in the white t-shirt and apron waited patiently with a red and white chequered t-towel over his left arm. "A Miller and a-"

"Don't insult me, please." Looking passed Dean; Ariel spoke to the barkeeper as though Dean had never spoken. "Ignore this boy please. Two Molsons. On tap, if you got it."

"You got it honey." The barkeep smiled, revealing a set of teeth only a smoker could be proud of, turned and headed towards the varied sized taps at the end of the bar.

"Trying to give me watered down American beer. Shame on you," Ariel chided. Looking around the room she noted the pool table had just been vacated. "Your call, darts or pool?"

"Pool."

"A man after my own heart." Ariel smiled as she handed the barkeeper money for the beers, grabbed her draught from the bar top, and headed towards the pool table. The table looked like it had seen better days, but the green felt top was still intake, though worn down.

Dean followed Ariel to the pool table and set his beer on one of the freestanding wood counters around the table before gathering up the balls. "Eight-ball?"

"Sure." Ariel placed her beer beside Dean's and removed her jacket, tossing it over a nearby chair.

Dean started racking the balls in a triangle at the foot of the table with the eight-ball in the center of the triangle. Ariel watched silently as he swiftly placed the first ball of the rack on the footspot, a stripe ball in one corner of the rack and a solid ball in the other corner. Handing Ariel a cue stick and picking up one for himself in the process, Dean placed the cue ball on the head spot. He gestured for her to break as he reached for his beer. "You know, I was thinking-"

"Oh that can't be a good thing," Ariel said as she bent over the table and took three warm up strokes before the final stroke hit the cue ball dead centre, sending the perfectly formed rack into a colourful scattered mess. Two solid numbered balls labelled seven and four disappeared into their pockets, along with a striped ten.

Dean cursed under his breath realizing instantly that Ariel had taken a perfect snooker stance. Her break had almost flawlessly set up her entire game. Removing his jacket and discarding it over Ariel's, he studied her stance as he continued speaking. "If Ethan has the ring, why hasn't anything happened yet? Usually the day the ring gets a new owner people start dying and things start going to pots."

Ariel resumed her stance and set herself up for her next shot. She didn't bother to call her shot. Dean's precision in racking the balls up told her he was equally skilled at this game. If he couldn't make out her obvious next shot, he was going to lose badly. "Maybe he hasn't put it on yet. Or maybe we just haven't been looking closely enough. It starts fulfilling the wearer's desires slowly, right? Small stuff first. Maybe he hasn't desired anything that would cause someone harm."

"Yet," Dean agreed as he took a drink of his beer. The flavour was much better than he expected. Giving Ariel a smile of approval, he took another mouthful.

"Exactly." She returned his smile and stood up straight for a moment, gauging her next shot. She called her object ball and pocketed it quickly. She continued smiling to herself as she called her group. "Solid."

"I can see that." Dean gave her an amused expression and took another drink before returning to his original subject. "We have to find out if he's wearing the ring."

"Brooke and Sam would have seen it when they met him right?" she asked, eyeing Dean with an unreadable expression upon her face. Ariel couldn't be certain, but she could swear he was checking her out.

"Yeah," Dean answered, then, watching Ariel set up for an impossible shot he asked, "Back pocket?"

"Left back." Ariel took her shot, misgauged the angle and missed the pocket. Oh well. She didn't want to beat him too badly. Ariel moved from the table at the end of her turn and reached for her beer. After swallowing a good mouthful, she spoke. "So we asked them if he had it on."

"If he's not wearing it, we're going to need to get inside that house." Dean took his stance, called his shot and stroked the cue flat and straight causing, his cushion to shoot his object ball directly into the right side pocket.

"Smash and grab?" Ariel mused. Dean was setting up a very difficult shot. She watched intently, checking his form, trying to judge whether he would make it.

"Exactly," Dean said as he followed through on his stroke perfectly.

Ariel smiled at him over the rim of her glass. He'd just nailed a really complicated shot. She started to question whether her sister had been correct in her assessment of Dean's ability. Brooke had mentioned he was a far better poker player then he was at pool. Judging by his game thus far, he must be a damn good poker player. "Normally I'd be against that particular approach-"

"But?" He asked as rubbed his cue stick with the chalk block before setting up his next shot.

"But given the object, I think that might be our best bet. Either way I could really do without ring talk for now. We're going to get all we can stand when we met back up with Brooke and Sam."

"No kidding," Dean chuckled as he lined up his cue. He took his shot, but missed his mark.

"Got to say, I'm kind of impressed." Ariel brushed past a spited looking Dean and leaned over to take a tricky shot. Pulling her cue back, she knocked the few remaining solid balls into their adjacent pockets. She shot Dean a sexy little smile before calling her next and final shot. "It's never taken me this long to beat someone before. Eight ball, back pocket."

Dean went to give her one of his usually cocky, off the cuff remarks but was dumbstruck when she made the shot flawlessly. "Aren't you supposed to let me win?"

Straightening slowly whilst staking her pool stick on the dark red laminate floor and leaning into it like a pole, she raised her eyebrows into an amused expression. "Why on earth would I do something like that?"

-----


	6. Chapter 6 Bated Breath

* * *

Chapter Six – **Bated Breath**

* * *

"I can't believe I let you order for me." Brooke gave Sam an uncertain expression before hooking her heels on the rail of her bar stool. She wanted nothing more than to be fast asleep in a warm bed. This day had been bad from the moment she had opened her eyes, taser in hand.

Sam's smile was a reply in itself. "Relax Brooke, it's not like I'm trying to kill you."

A lovely blonde in jeans and a black t-shirt labelled with the bar's logo approached carrying a large wooden tray, balancing it on her right shoulder and open palm. The tray was packed with two servings of English style fish and chips, some fresh baked bread, and two ice cold Labatt's Blues. After setting the order on the black topped table, she flashed Sam a poignant, coquettish smile. "Here you go, Sugar. If you need anything else just give me a shout."

Brooke shot the blonde an irritated side-look that successfully shooed her away. "What is it about you Winchesters' that makes women fall all over you? It has to be genetic."

"Obviously," Sam jested as he pulled his stool in closer to the table.

Looking at the spread in front of her Brooke's expression changed from mildly annoyed to pleasantly surprised. She reached out for her beer bottle, noticed the label, and smirked somewhat. "Well I have to say, I'm impressed Sam."

"Having a Canadian friend has its benefits. Though Ariel always complained that even the Canadian draft tasted different down there." Sam opened the jar of tartar sauce and served himself a large helping before reaching for his beer.

"Yeah, they water it down before they ship it off to you Americans." Brooke couldn't help but smile. There was something about Sam that was extremely comforting. John Winchester always had a ready smile when he needed to assure someone. Dean could put your mind at ease with one of his swaggering annotations following a calculated smirk. Sam somehow managed to go beyond simple assurance and completely relax you with those puppy dog eyes. She could see why Ariel enjoyed his company. "Well at least now you get to try it the way it was meant to be."

Sam took a sip of the cold lager and made an appreciatory sound before continuing to drink the golden brew. "Not bad."

"Now there's an endorsement!" Brooke couldn't help laughing. She gladly took the jar of tartar sauce and followed Sam's lead by scooping out an ample portion for herself.

Sam was laughing too. He'd never admit it to Dean, but he had been enjoying his time with Brooke. Beneath that layer of antagonism she insisted holding on to, she was rather fun to be with. "So why are we really breaking into the cemetery?"

Drowning her fries in vinegar, Brooke looked up into Sam's dark hazel eyes and spoke the truth. "Because I'm not letting that ring get away. I need to find it. I don't like leaving a job unfinished."

"Now you sound like Dean." Taking the vinegar bottle from Brooke and pouring the sour liquid over his fries before covering them with salt and pepper, Sam gave Brooke a pensive expression. "How long have you been doing this?"

Brooke gave Sam a surprised look at his unexpected question. "Hunting?"

"Yeah." Sam wasted no time digging into the perfectly battered fish dressed in tartar sauce on his plate. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the enticing aroma hit his senses.

"Oh, wow. Um, I started weapons training and stuff like that when I was a kid. Once my parents started hunting, they wanted to make sure we could protect ourselves, you know? But I didn't get in on the action until Ari was old enough to be on her own." Brooke frowned at the memory. She had basically raised her younger sister. The realization that she had essentially raised herself in the process didn't really inspire any joyful emotions. When her parents had been around they had drilled the two girls, schooling them is hand to hand combat, marksmanship, and other various weapon efficiencies. They had moved around so much, both girls were fluent in three languages.

"Why'd you quit?" Sam asked between bites of flawlessly cooked home fries.

"Who said I did?" Brooke asked tentatively after taking a bite of her fish. She couldn't help wondering what Dean had told him about her. Hopefully no more than she had told Ariel about Dean.

"Ariel," he answered before continuing to eat.

"God, she has a big mouth." Brooke took a large drink of her beer, and for reasons unknown to her, she answered his question. "When I turned eighteen I went off to Queen's for a bit."

"Queen's University?" Sam couldn't conceal his surprise. He hadn't taken Brooke for the scholastic type. She seemed to view life with the same general freewheeling attitude his brother displayed.

Brooke didn't hide the irritation in her voice. "Don't look so shocked there Sammy!"

"I'm not. It's just I never-"

"You and Ari weren't the only ones with ambitions you know." Taking a bite of her fries and chewing carefully before she decided how much more she should say, Brooke measured the curiosity in Sam's eyes. She placed her fork down carefully and looked him square in the eyes before continuing her narrative. "I was almost halfway through my undergraduate degree when my mom was killed. Werewolves. We tracked down and killed every member of the pack, save one."

Sam had known Brooke's mother was dead, but it wasn't until this week that he had learned how she had died. He could definitely relate to the anguish felt when one's parent was taken from them. Brooke's eyes had phased out slightly. She looked as though her mind was trapped behind a waking nightmare. "You didn't go back?" It wasn't really a question, but he wanted so desperately to have her focus on something other than the pain she was clearly feeling.

"Nah. Once we killed off the pack, Ariel went to Stanford and my dad needed me, so I just never went back." Brooke's voice was flat, emotionless. She had only spoken of her past on two occasions before. One very drunken night with Dean and one extremely candid moment with Blake.

"What did you major in?" Sam hoped he was successful in keeping the guilt from his voice. He didn't feel bad for inquiring into her past; she had had no qualms with giving him the third degree on their ride into North Bay. Nevertheless, he felt oddly responsible for the pain etched in her blue eyes that had moments before had been lit up with laughter.

Brooke smirked when she thought of the expression she knew Sam was about to give her. "Anthropology, believe it or not."

"Anthropology?" Sam's expression was a mixture of fascination, amusement and surprise. He smiled at Brooke in return. "What made you take that?"

Answering with a question of her own, her smirk quickly turned into a smile in response to Sam. "What made you take law?"

Sam shrugged slightly before reaching once again for his beer. "It piqued my interest."

"Anthropology piqued mine." Brooke's expression quickly changed from amused to annoyed. She waved her hand in a dismissing motion and carried on. "Anyway it was just a silly little pipe dream."

"Why?" Sam couldn't help but ask as he speared another golden piece of fish with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

"People like us don't get the white picket fence kind of life, you know?" She returned her attention back to her quickly disappearing meal, hoping Sam would just let it go and finish eating.

"Maybe not." Sam watched Brooke over the rim of his bottle trying to decide whether or not to continue probing Brooke for answers to his burning questions. He wanted to know more about the woman who seemed to know his brother so well. Sam hoped if he asked the right questions he could figure out what had happened between the two to cause their apparently good friendship to dissolve years ago.

"So have you decided yet?"

"On what?" It was Sam's turn to be thrown off by an unexpected question.

Brooke took a long drink of the golden brew before answering. "Well, Dean was telling me you only came back to help find your dad, and the only reason you're staying is to hunt the demon down."

Sam finished chewing his fry before answering. "Yeah."

"You haven't decided what happens after that?" Brooke wasn't sure, but she seriously doubted Dean was pleased with that prospect. He had wanted his family back together almost as badly as she had. When she saw Dean and Sam together she could see how much then not only enjoyed each other's company, but how well they worked together. When Dean had told her Sam was planning to leave when the whole thing was over, she couldn't help but feel bad for them both. The line between duty and desire was very thin. Brooke couldn't help but wonder which way Sam would ultimately choose.

"I'll worry about that bridge when I cross it," Sam said into his beer bottle.

"Well good luck with that." Brooke tried to hold back her chuckle. Sam was like Ariel in so many ways. He honestly believed there was a choice to be made. For both their sakes, she hoped he was right.

Sam's hazel gaze locked on to Brooke's as he inquired gently. "Is it so wrong to want that?"

"Want what?" Brooke asked sarcastically, making sure not to take her eyes off of Sam's. "A picket fence?"

"A safe life."

"Wrong? No." Brooke took another drink without breaking their stare. "Unrealistic? Hell yes."

"It's not unrealistic, Brooke. I had it once."

She shrugged. "So did I. But this, this life _always_ drags you back in Sam. What's worst is in trying to run from who you are, you end up hurting people. Innocent people. When your past catches up with you it bites you in the ass."

"Is that what happened to you?" Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He had just managed to walk down a road he had effectively avoided since meeting Brooke.

"It's what happened to you, isn't it?" Anger heated her tone and Brooke lashed out in response to the pain that suddenly ached deep within her heart. "Dean just told me, the same thing that killed your mom, killed your girl. You trying to tell me your safe little life didn't bite you in the ass?"

Sam didn't bother to curb his temper but let it underscore each and every word. "So what are we suppose to do? Hunt until the day we get killed and never get close to anyone?"

"No." Brooke's anger drained away instantly, leaving only heartache. "But we can't pretend to be something we aren't Sam."

"And what's that?" he demanded.

Finally breaking their locked stare, Brooke looked down at her nearly empty plate and took a deep breath before answering him. "Normal."

-----

"I'm starving! I can't believe there are no restaurants here." The pretzels they had been downing were only going to tide her over for a bit. Ariel wanted to eat something more substantial before she passed out from the exhaustion that had been following her since this morning's funeral fiasco.

"The lack of motels didn't tip you off?" Dean tried to stifle his laughter. Ariel's surprise was extremely amusing considering the little town's want for some basic amenities.

"They have a bar," she pointed out sarcastically as she walked towards the red painted metal door of the Red Bridge Pub.

Dean grabbed the door handle, turned it swiftly, and held it open long enough for both of them to step on to the other side. "Priorities."

"That's right, I forgot." Green eyes lit up with unexpressed humour.

"Come on we'll head back. The Silver Spoon's still open." Dean gestured towards the direction where his Impala was parked as he pulled his car keys out of his jacket pocket.

They started walking towards the car when the light of the setting sun caught Ariel's attention. The moment they cleared the building she saw first hand the radiance that was painting the picturesque scene by the waterfront behind the shabby little pub. "Wow."

"Wow?" Dean glanced back to see a completely enthused Ariel staring at the horizon.

"Look at that." She gestured to the landscape without taking her eyes off of it.

Dean walked back to stand beside her, getting a better glance at the view. "Yeah, that's a thing we like to call sunset."

"The reflection is perfect!" The water from the lake was so still it had turned into a mirror reflecting the backdrop of the declining sun flawlessly. Dean started walking down the worn path towards the lake's edge. Ariel was quick to follow, and, wondering where he was going, she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Getting a better look." Dean didn't bother looking back to see if Ariel was trailing after him. He knew her curiosity would drive her to follow.

"I'm not really a sunset person." Apprehension filled her voice.

"But you love the sunrise?" Dean queried as he sat in front of a fallen tree by the water's edge.

"Yeah." Ariel sat down next to him on the grass and started to explain her general dislike for the setting sun quietly, as though she was worried someone might overhear her. "When I see the sun rising I know that for the most part I'm safe again. That at least for a few hours the paranormal can't wreak their havocs on unsuspecting victims and I don't have to worry about getting ambushed."

"But the sunset?" Dean propped himself against the log, using it as a backrest, and looked at the girl who was so close to him at the moment he could smell her shampoo. He couldn't understand why something as harmless as the sunset would worry her. He had never seen it first hand, but he was certain she could handle herself.

"It reminds me of everything that's out there. It's weird, the sun setting is even more beautiful then it rising, but it bothers me. You know?" she asked, completely unaware that she was leaning back on the log like a pillow.

"Yeah I guess." Dean shrugged looking back at the golden ball suspended above the lake.

"What about you?" Ariel asked when her curiosity got the best of her.

"Never really think about it. I mean I grew up knowing there were things that go bump in the night." Dean shrugged once again, returning his attention to Ariel's enquiring emerald eyes. "I just like knowing we bump back."

"Never really thought about it that way." She hadn't. Her whole life she had been hesitant when darkness claimed the sun, worrying about the uncertainties the night held. She never thought of the things she was capable of doing to the very things she feared.

"You think too much," Dean said matter-of-factly before turning his attention back to the varying skyline.

Ariel wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. She would have dismissed his comment as a joke but his tone had been so certain. "What?"

"It's just a general observation. You analyze everything. You should try winging it every once in awhile. You might actually enjoy it."

She couldn't help but miss her empathic abilities in that moment. She stared at him for a moment before speaking. "Why do I have a funny feeling you've changed the subject?"

Dean smiled. "There you go thinking again."

Ariel decided to ignore him and enjoy this rare moment of calm as the golden sphere began to slowly disappear into the watery depths of the lake. She shifted until her head was braced on Dean's shoulder, which she decided made a much more comfortable headrest then the fallen maple behind her. The sun made its final descent into the water mass, leaving only the painted skies as witness to its splendour. The sight itself took her breath away. The brilliance of the sun's glow still burned her vision with its outline. The clouds varied in shades of pink until they merged into a thousand shades of purple as the night slowly started to take its claim over the sky once again. The tranquil painting was interrupted by the flight of a loon gracing the abandoned sky with its perfect form. The sound of its call carried over the water until it too disappeared into the distance. A coolness swept across the lake that flawlessly reflected the grandeur that was the twilight. When the last rosy hue left the sky she closed her eyes, remembering all the radiance that had for a moment become part of her.

As darkness fell upon the glowing ebb that met the horizon Ariel made a sound of contentment. The world was right once again. The sun had completed its course across the sky only to repeat the show the following morning. She held on to this moment of peace knowing that once all traces of the light vanished the calm would be replaced with unease. The last light drained from the sky, consumed by darkness, and still she waited for that feeling. The feeling that for once in her life didn't come. As she exhaled, she released all her tension and relaxed completely against Dean.

He felt her changing weight against him. He could hear her breathing change; sleep was slowly taking hold of her. With one last sigh she gave herself over to the exhaustion that had been looming over her all day.

Dean smiled when she finally fell asleep. Today had been a very difficult one for her. And as much as she fought it, she needed sleep more than anything else right now. He gathered her close to him, convincing himself he was only trying to keep her warm. He was about to collect her into his arms and take her to the car when he thought better of it. If he tried to move her this soon, she would wake up and fight the sleep she so desperately needed. No, he decided he would stay there for awhile and let her get into a much deeper sleep before trying to move her. She needed to rest.

The last thing Dean remembered thinking was what scent was transfused within each strand of her hair. Then he too gave into the slumber his body was craving.

-----

"That's unnatural."

"What is?" Brooke asked before flinging her red tailed dart into the center of the dart board once again. She started tapping her foot to the beat of the music blaring from the jukebox a few feet away.

"Nobody's aim is that good!" Sam said, shaking his head. Brooke hadn't missed the inner bull's eyes yet.

Brooke walked over to the board to collect her darts and write down her score on the small chalk board hanging fairly close to the dartboard. She shot Sam a smile before joining him back at the toe line. "Please! This is nothing. I can hit a target this size at twice the distance."

"Dead on?" He asked, somewhat surprised, and took another drink of beer before picking up his blue tailed dart and walking back to the line.

"Every time." She beamed, watching Sam step up to the raised bar marking the toe line before taking his aim.

"Like I said, that's unnatural." Nailing the outer bull's eye as he spoke. Sam smiled and laughed somewhat.

Brooke started laughing too. Despite Sam's protests to the contrary he had been playing pretty damn good. "There's no real difference between knife throwing and darts. Except maybe that darts are a lot more fun. What time is it anyway?"

Looking down at his watch for a moment before placing his metal darts on the table beside him and grabbing his khaki jacket he answered, "Time to go."

Brooke frowned faintly and took one last sip of her drink before reaching for her coat and heading after Sam. He held the door open as she passed him while reaching into her jacket pocket for her keys. "Thanks."

"Your welcome."

Looking at the night sky, filled with twinkling stars, she turned back to face Sam with a small grin on her face. "Is this dark enough for you there Sam?"

Sam chuckled as he followed Brooke to her Mustang. "Plenty."

Brooke unlocked her door and got into the car, shoved her key into the ignition, and reached over to unlock the passenger side door before turning the key. It didn't take Sam long to get in. As soon as his door was closed Brooke started reversing the car out of its parking spot, turned back onto the main road, and was coasting down the street towards the cemetery.

"What do you figure the odds are the stupid thing is even there?" Sam asked.

"Oh, about a hundred to one." Brooke smirked at the expression Sam gave her.

"You weren't kidding."

"About what?" She hadn't been joking in the least. There was virtually no chance the ring was still in the cemetery. But she had to be sure.

"You're not going to leave any rock unturned."

"Not so much as a pebble," she agreed.

Sam shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair as Brooke pulled her car off the road and pulled into a small alley before turning off the ignition and getting out. He got out of the car and hurriedly followed her down the street until she stopped in front of a maple tree beside a wrought iron fence.

"Right here." Brooke pointed to the tree before continuing. "Perfect spot to scale."

"Whatever happened to picking the locks?"

"The entrance faces a busy street." She tested the strength of one of the tree braches before grabbing on to it with her right hand and giving herself a boost with her left foot, replacing her hand with her right foot and gripping another branch. "You want to get arrested; you're more than welcome to."

"This just keeps getting better!" Sam said as he started climbing the tree behind her.

Reaching the top of the tree and swinging her leg over the side of the fence before jumping on to the perfectly manicured grass, she smiled up at the whining brunette in front of her. "Lighten up Sammy! This is the fun part."

It didn't take Sam long to clear the fence and land on the grass beside Brooke. "Which way?"

"Follow me." Brooke started a hurried gait across the grass, weaving in between the various grave markers until she reached a beautifully situated building containing sepulchral vaults that doubled as a mausoleum. The large wrought iron door had a huge lock that looked as daunting as the door itself. Without checking to see if Sam was still with her, she reached into her back jeans pocket and pulled out a small tool kit. Selecting the implements she desired, she started to pick the lock with relative ease.

Sam watched her make quick work of the lock, first inserting the tension wrench into the keyhole and turning it in the direction that she would turn the key. While applying pressure on the plug, she inserted her pick into the keyhole and began lifting the pins. He could hear the soft clicks when each pin fell into position. She gripped the handle while turning it as she pushed the door open. Brooke shot Sam a satisfied smile and stepped inside the whitewashed building. Glancing around the yard for any onlookers before stepping inside the building as well, he shut the door behind him, pulled a small pen light from his jacket pocket and followed Brooke down the marble hallway.

Brooke pulled out a small flashlight from her jacket pocket, clicking the apparatus on before she started walking down the cold white hall leading to the columbarium. She and Dean had cased the place this morning, so she knew exactly where to go in the dark. When the beam of Sam's flashlight overlapped hers, she smiled. The boy had come prepared. Not that she had expected anything less from a Winchester.

Brooke rounded the corner to the right and walked into a long narrow room that was panelled with bronze-fronted niches inscribed with the names of people who once were as vibrant and animate as her. She discarded the thought hastily. Everyone had to die at one point; some just died sooner than others. Walking to the center of the room, she turned to her left before starting to count her steps. When she reached twenty-three, she aimed her light on the fifth front plate from the bottom. "This is it."

Sam looked up at the niche, noting the height was well above his reach. In a hushed tone he asked Brooke how she intended to reach the bronzed front plate.

Brooke thought about it for a moment before she got a wicked grin on her face. "You've got strong shoulders, right?"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Well it's not like I can lift you." Brooke looked Sam up and down, trying to estimate his weight as she pocketed her flashlight. She was a strong woman, but she doubted she could successfully hold his lanky form for any amount of time on her shoulders, nor was she willing to try.

Sam made a noise that sounded more like a snarl then any actual word before bending to hoist Brooke over his head, settling her astride his shoulders. From this vantage point she could easily reach the front plate. Reaching down to the knife holster on her ankle, she easily separated the blade from its sheath and started to jam the blade in a small space between the bronze and the marble wall. After some effort the plate separated from the wall a tad, just enough for her to reach her fingers in the crevice and pry it open. Inside the niche sat a small metallic urn. Sheathing the knife, and using both hands so as not to spill the contents over her mount, she pulled the urn from its resting place.

"Where exactly do you want to dump this thing?" Sam asked as he lowered himself to remove Brooke's easy weight from his shoulders.

Handing Sam the urn for a moment, she removed her flashlight and used it to scan the room. She fixed her eyes on a small floral arrangement near the entrance of the columbarium. Keeping her flashlight trained on the spot as she headed towards its location, she traded her flashlight for the urn and pried open the lid. The mephitis stench of the burnt ashes rapidly overwhelmed her senses. She realized with a sense of irony that the odour itself no longer repulsed her. "Amazing what you can get used to."

"Tell me about it." Sam held the flashlight on the small floral arrangement while keeping his eyes actively searching the darkness for any sign of security. With all the bronze and gold plating in this place, he knew there had to be some form of theft protection.

Brooke promptly emptied the contents of the vase into the dirt and started sifting through it. When her hands found only ash and dirt, she swore bitterly. She'd known the ring wasn't going to be there, but that small part of her that had held onto that remote optimism was crushed. The hunt for the ring had not reached its end, despite her willing it to do just that.

Sam heard the acrimony in her pitch and could almost feel her resentment at the empty contents of the urn. "Come on, let's put it back and get out of here."

Wiping her hands off on the wine velvet liners that acted as dividers in the room, she returned the lid to the urn and headed back towards the opened niche in the panelled wall. Sam lifted her off the ground long enough to replace the urn and close the front plate before returning her to the ground once more. Sam handed her the flashlight she had already forgotten about before turning back towards the direction they had come from. The need for illumination now passed, Brooke pocketed her light and headed after Sam.

They speedily made their way through the corridor back to the mausoleums' entrance, searching the darkness outside before exiting the edifice. They continued through the graveyard, passing gravestones in the moonlight.

Just as Sam was about to scale the fence once again he noticed the silence that had fallen around him. No following footsteps or hushed breathing were present, other than his own. He looked back in search of Brooke. She was standing in front of a large granite tombstone. Sam stood by the fence for a moment, watching Brooke. She was as inanimate and lifeless as the corpses lining the necropolis. He crossed the distance between them quickly, watching as her face became visible in the moonlight. The colour had drained completely from her face; she looked like she had seen a ghost. Which, considering what she did for a living, was far beyond ironic. Studying her expression, Sam spoke softly. "Brooke?"

She didn't answer him, or even move. Her attention was transfixed upon the stone marker before her. Sam inched forward and placed his hand tentatively on her shoulder. "Brooke?"

Gently shaking her, Sam watched as her eyes gradually focused on him. "Are you okay Brooke?"

"What?" The word broke as she spoke.

"Are you alright?" Sam's voice was filled with concern as he prodded her quietly.

"I'm fine." The words were spoken through lips tight with pain. She was anything but fine. She had just been flooded with memories that had nearly drowned her in their intensity. Her breathing was ragged. Her skin was pale and cold to the touch. It took every bit of strength in her body to keep herself from throwing up or passing out. She started to take a few shaky steps forward, but moving on made the feelings worse. Taking a deep breath and using the determination that had kept her alive all these years, she pushed the agony that was boring its way through her aside and focused on getting out of graveyard. The further she got from the headstones, the easier it would be to bury the pain deep within her heart. She could feel the protective layer of ice around her heart melting. The pain was so unbearable.

She pushed herself up the wrought iron fence with a force that would have surprised her, if she could feel anything other than the pain.

Sam was a breath behind her as she took off running to the alley where her car waited patiently. She pulled her keys from her pocket and tried to force them into the keyhole. Her hands were quivering so severely she could do no more than curse at herself for being so weak. Sam's hands came around hers as he separated her from her keys. Before she could protest he had placed the keys into his pocket and was holding her trembling hands in his own steady ones. "Brooke, look at me."

Cobalt eyes feral with pain looked up at him through red lashes. Sam swore silently as the understanding hit him. "Was that his name?"

"Who?" Brooke pretended not to understand the question. It was much easier than facing the truth, pretending it never happened. But the reality of the past was bashing her in the face with each breath that was torn from her chest.

"The guy from the picture. Was his name Blake?" He didn't really need to ask. Her reaction to the grave marker bearing the name was as tangible as verbalization could have been.

Taking another unsteady breath before answering, she tried to overt her gaze. "Yeah."

"First time seeing it on a grave marker?" It wasn't really a question, but he knew from experience the only way Brooke was going to get through this was to drag it out of her word by word.

"I've never even seen his." She tried to smile but the ends of her mouth dipped further into a scowl. At the very least she was grateful she didn't cry. The thought of breaking into tears in front of anyone was almost enough to make her depart from this life.

"You never went to his grave? Why not?" Sam asked, trying to keep the astonishment from his voice.

"Guilt," she said lifelessly, her tone matching the gapping hole in her heart.

Sam pressed on. "For what?"

"What is this, twenty questions? Let's just drop it," Brooke snarled furiously.

"Okay. But it's not going to help any." Sam's voice maintained its consoling tenor.

"What do you mean?" she queried.

"Not talking about it. It's not going to help. It's not going to keep it out of your mind. If anything, you'll just think about it more," Sam promised.

"I hear experience talking," she remarked. The surety in his voice convinced her of it.

"First hand." He nodded forcefully.

"How long were you with her?" Brooke asked quietly.

"Almost three years." Sam heard the pain slide through his words. He imagined that twinge would always be a part of him when he remembered his first love. Jessica carried a piece of his heart away with her, and her memory would always be a part of him. That made her loss easier to manage, because he knew he would never let her completely drift from his mind or heart. Brooke hadn't accepted that simple fact. The past was behind her, and there was nothing she could do to change that. Running from her feelings only made it worst. "What about Blake?"

"Three years."

"When did he die?" Sam continued to drag the information from her piece by piece, forcing her to remember the very things she had spent years trying to forget.

"Over four years ago."

Sam couldn't help but ask the question that had been burning at his brain the moment he'd discovered his brother's former friend harboured resentment towards him. "Is that why you and Dean stopped talking?"

"Basically. We were all working a case together when it happened." She went to say something else but her jaw locked instead. It was still too fresh in her mind to speak of the night Blake had been savagely murdered. His picture was burned into her conscious; his blonde hair so blood soaked she could barely believe it had once been the colour of the rising sun; his eyes once the vibrant colour of the ocean, a deadened blue. His mutilated, lifeless body haunted her nightmares.

"And?" Sam eyes radiated with his fervid question, silently willing her to answer, despite her extreme to desire to do anything but.

"Don't you dare use those puppy dog eyes on me, Sam!" she snarled viciously. "I don't want to talk about this."

Sam didn't take his eyes off her. She needed to talk about it as much as she needed her next breath, and he knew it. When she would have turned his hands remained fixed around hers. She would have fought the entrapment, but all her strength was being used to keep herself from sobbing. She bit back the tears she refused to shed. The words started pouring out of her mouth in a sudden rush as though a floodgate had burst open with the force of her pent-up emotions.

"He died because of me, okay! Because of what we do! I never should have told him. I should have listened. I should have lied to him about my past. About who I am. About what I do. I should have, but I didn't. I loved him, and I didn't want to keep this huge part of my life secret from him. I wanted to share it with him. And I got him killed."

"Do you honestly believe that if you had kept your secret from him he would be alive?" Sam demanded.

"I know he would." Her voice was ridden with guilt and hurt.

With great effort, Sam managed to keep his composure. "I kept my secret. I didn't tell Jessica who I was, or what I had been. I kept that part of my life to myself. And she still got hurt. She got killed because of it."

"It's not the same thing!" Brooke postulated loudly.

"Yes it is Brooke. We lead dangerous lives, so that people who aren't capable of protecting themselves can be saved. The people we love will always pay the price for what we do. Hell, even the people we run into on this job are in danger the moment they're exposed to us."

"What are you trying to say?" she demanded tonelessly.

"Loss is a part of life. The people we help would die without us. The people we love may die because of us. And people we never meet die anyway. People die. It's a part of life. And unless you deliberately put that person in a situation where they can't survive, it's not your fault. It's just a part of life. If he had never met you, he still would have died."

"But not so soon." Her voice was as wounded as her eyes.

Sam's voice changed to a soothing tone before he spoke again. "Maybe not. But eventually he would have. There is no doubt in my mind that if he loved you enough to do this for a living, he chose this. Even if he knew that he would die young. Because at least he didn't die unfulfilled. He loved you, Brooke. That was enough. That was where he chose to be. Where he wanted to be. With you."

-----

Brooke sat up like a shot. She wiped at the sweat dripping down her brow. Her throat ached from the screams she had held back in her tormented sleep. Looking around the room to orient herself, she convinced herself she was at the motel and not suspended in her hellish nightmare. She threw her covers off as her feet hit the floor and started towards the bathroom in a hastened pace. Her shaking hands fumbled for the light switch until the light flicked on and revealed her tortured face in the mirror. She turned the faucet on and ran the cold water over her hands, trying to rinse the blood that never seemed to disappear no matter how much soap she used. Taking both her hands and scooping the icy liquid, she splashed her face, trying to force herself awake. It wasn't until the water hit her face that she became aware of the heat burning behind her skin. Her eyes smouldered with unshed tears. Tears she would never allow to break free. She needed to cool her fevered skin, needed to cleanse herself of the torrent of nightmares that never seemed to leave her. She tore off her t-shirt and shorts as she turned the shower on, letting the water get ice cold before entering it.

Blake's lifeless body was forever etched into her brain. She knew she'd never be rid of the sight. Never be free of the pain of knowing she had let down the only man she had ever loved. Why hadn't she been there? Why had she trusted Dean? She should have known better. She should have known not to trust such a conniving egotistical playboy. She never should have left. Why had she gone?

Brooke hit the tiled wall with her fist, cracking the tile, but feeling nothing. Nothing but the guilt that claimed her whenever she let Blake slip back into her mind. She had asked herself the same questions over and over without ever finding the answer she really needed. Why had Dean left Blake there to die?

Her memory took over as she remembered the last time she had spoken to Blake. He had been so animated. So alive.

"Oh brother, are you two hustling pool again?" Brooke made a frustrated sound as she turned off her signal indicator. The roads were covered in sleet and she still had a good ten hour drive ahead of her.

"_Bee, relax. The only hustling that's happening at the moment is of the personal nature."_

"_Dean found a girl already?" Brooke wasn't that surprised. Dean had a knack for finding women willing to spread their legs for him wherever he went._

"_I'd say she found him," Blake chuckled._

_Brooke could clearly recall the parade of blondes that had taken him for a test drive in the year she'd known him. The boy clearly has a very healthy libido. "He's like a ditz magnet." _

"_That's funny, that's what everyone used to say about me." She could hear Blake's smile clear through the cell phone, as if he were standing right next to her._

"_Oh that was cute honey. You just bought yourself a cold shower tonight." She said with a false sternness._

"_I thought you were heading back?" Disappointment filled his voice._

_She quickly hid the laughter that threatened her serious tone. It was nice to know he missed her too. "I was. But I just realized, given how ditzy **I** am, I really shouldn't be driving in the dark. Oh look there's a motel. Just my luck." _

"_Brooke!" Both name and plea at once._

_She couldn't keep up the charade a moment longer and quickly gave way to laughter. "Relax babe. I'll be there around noon tomorrow. I'm not making any stops."_

"_You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?" he quipped._

_She started laughing. "Damn you figured it out! I'm secretly plotting to kill you for your millions!" _

_Blake's hearty laughter filled her earpiece. "God I miss you, Bee."_

"_I miss you too. Where can I find you when I roll into town?"_

"_Motel Six."_

"_Very funny, Blake. Since when are you still in bed after dawn. God, you're worse then my sister."_

"_When am I going meet her anyway?" Curiosity replaced his laughter._

"_We can head out to Stanford on our way back." A sharp beep warned her of her phone's failing battery power. "Oh dammit Blake, my cell's dying."_

"_Motel Six, noon tomorrow. Don't be late."_

"_I won't," she laughed._

_Blake's voice carried over the warning beeps. "I love you." _

_The line went dead as her cell phone clicked off. Looking at the dead line she smiled. "I love you too."_

Brooke let herself fall to the floor of the shower, not even feeling the icy drops of water washing over her. She never got to tell him she loved him. Her throat started choking on the tears she fought with every bit of determination in her body. Willing the unwanted tears back, she shut off the water and reached out for a towel. Using the side bar to help her stand, she dried her hair and was starting to dry off the rest of her body when her memory reclaimed her once more.

"_Brooke when did you get here?" _

"_About thirty minutes ago." Discarding the Time magazine she had been flipping threw Brooke quickly stood to face Dean. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. "Where's Blake?"_

"_What makes you think I know? He was supposed to meet me at the Parks at noon." Dean shrugged before pulling out his cell phone and dialling a set of numbers._

"_That's not possible." Brooke protested. Something wasn't adding up. _

"_Why not?" Dean demanded quickly._

"_Because he said he would meet me here at noon."_

_Dean's expression filled with concern as he headed down the lobby's hall way, racing up the stairs towards the room they had rented. "His cell phone is off." _

"_I know," she snapped. She had been calling his cell every five minutes since she had pulled up._

_Dean pulled out his room key, unlocking the door and rushing inside. Blake's bed had been slept in, but there were no signs that the man was there, or had been for a few hours._

"_Where is he Dean?"_

"_Son of a bitch went without me!"_

"_What?" Brooke yelled. The next few minutes blurred together. She vaguely remembered running down to her car and driving like a bat out of hell until she pulled up to the edge of the parks. She didn't even pause long enough to grab her shot gun as she sprinted down the walkways, calling Blake's name at the top of her lungs. That's when she saw it. The trail of blood leading off into the bushes. "Blake!"_

_She ran into the thicket, unaware of Dean's presence by her side. The blood path started to thicken into a grisly pooling of blood. Her mind didn't even register that that much blood couldn't be lost safely. She was screaming Blake's name before she stumbled over a hidden tree root and came face to face with the source of the blood track. Blake's eyes were frozen open in terror. The blue depths of his eyes were dark and lifeless. His skin, once tanned and vibrant, was sallow and pale. His left hand was still gripping his unused shot gun. His blonde hair was soaked in his blood, leaving little of the colour beneath the crimson stains. She reached out for him, dragging his lifeless body into her arms. He was as cold as the blood that drenched her clothes. She was screaming at him to wake up, shaking his chest, trying desperately to bring him out of the slumber she knew he couldn't wake from. Her voice went hoarse with her screeches, yet she kept screaming at the man who had left her alone. The fact that he was dead didn't stop her from screaming. She knew there was a chance he could hear her. She begged him to come back to her, insisted that this was some sick joke he was playing on her, willed him to move, begging him to yell 'Surprise!'. Anything but remain lifeless in her arms. _

_Dean's hands gripped her shoulders, trying to end her tormented shrieks as he knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her and the motionless body of the man she loved. Dean's voice was firm as he tried to console her. "He's gone Brooke. He's gone." He repeated the words until he was sure she heard him. "You have to let him go. He's gone."_

_Brooke's broken scream was her only response. She held Blake's body closer to her, holding back the tears she had promised herself she would not shed. When Dean's arms loosened, she released her hold on Blake and laid him back on the ground, touching his face, trying to wipe the blood from his features. She brought her mouth to his lips and whispered her love to him before taking her fingers and gently closing his eyes. She kissed his broken lips lightly as her unshed tears burned at her eyes until all she could see was the blur of scarlet blood. She felt as cold as Blake did in her arms. When she stopped screaming Dean wrapped his arm around her again, this time urging her to leave. "We can't stay here Brooke. Someone could see us."_

"_So?" she said quietly. She had just lost the only man she had ever loved. She didn't care who found them. She didn't care if they locked her up for his death. It was her fault. She had introduced him to this world. She had taken his life._

"_Brooke, either we call the cops, or we leave. But whatever we do, we got to do it now!"_

"_We?" The word resonated in her mind like a booming echo. We. Where had Dean been when Blake was being ripped to shreds? Rage quickly replaced the anguish that was trying to smother her every breath. "Where the hell were you?" _

_Dean started to answer her back, but she cut off his words as she spoke with a raspy, unsteady voice. "Where the hell were you Dean? You promised me you would look out for him! You promised! How could you let him go in alone?"_

"_I didn't let him do anything! He promised me he wouldn't go in without me! We were supposed to meet here at noon. Go in together. Brooke, I never would have left him if I thought he'd do something so stu-"_

"_You lying bastard!" She screamed. "How could you? I trusted you! He trusted you!" _

She walked out of the bathroom on two very unsteady feet and crawled under her discarded comforter. She didn't bother to put on anything. The room was as empty as the hole in her heart. Brooke was shaking from the memories that kept bombarding her. She remembered the police had spent the next three days interviewing the two of them, making sure they never saw each other. Like that was some kind of deprivation! She had lost her boyfriend and they had been worried about her wanting to talk to the man who had let him die! When she had finally seen Dean outside of the police station he had tried to talk to her. She had slapped him so hard the sound had echoed through the parking lot. She had told him if she ever saw him again she would have him skinned alive. He had tried to reason with her but she had simply jumped in her car, thrown it in reverse, and never looked back.

Brooke shuddered as she fought the never ending flood of memories that ripped away at her sanity. When the last memory drifted into her mind she laid curled up in ball, motionless, hoping if she stopped moving long enough her brain would take the hint. After a few hours, sleep once again overtook her, suspending her in nightmares that worsened each waking day.


	7. Chapter 7 Delightful Awakenings

* * *

Chapter Seven – **Delightful Awakenings**

* * *

Dean awoke to the call of a lark carrying across the lake. Opening his eyes, he realized that he had drifted to sleep. He wanted to sit up but quickly recognized Ariel's light weight was keeping him from changing positions. Her head was resting lightly on his shoulder and her hand was draped across his chest. Strands of midnight covered part of her face in a soft veil. He smiled slightly when he noticed she hadn't arisen at the sound. She was completely relaxed and in deep slumber. He knew he should move her, pick her up and get her to the car, but instead he watched the slowly rising sun change the shades of her face. He watched her eye lids move as she dreamt. Finally, when he could take it no longer, he reached over and gently brushed the hair from her face. He felt her breathing change as her eyelashes fluttered until the feathered masses parted to reveal emerald eyes still clouded with sleep.

"Good morning."

"Morning?" Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the changing light. Ariel's mouth formed a smile as she spoke. "Good morning."

Without withdrawing his hand, he gently cupped her face in his palm. The cold morning dew had chilled her skin, but he couldn't help but wondered if the shiver that ran through her body was really from the morning chill. The look in her eyes quickly answered his question. The fog of sleep had been replaced with a different kind of cloudiness. Ariel went to say something coy and clever but found herself brushing her lips across his once again. This time when she pressed her lips to his, she didn't pull back and Dean was left in no doubt as to the cause of the shiver that rippled through her. She lifted her hand from his chest and held his cheek in her palm, focusing only on the feel of his lips pressed to hers. Dean lips were soft and demanding against hers. She poured herself into the kiss as though he was a dream she was soon to wake from. Ignoring all the reasons why this osculation should never have happened, and abandoning all thoughts of what would happen next, she kissed him with the same fervour and fire that was slowly consuming her alive.

Pulling her closer to his torso and kissing her with the same passion that she was coaxing from him, he brought his other hand to her face, turning her head slightly to deepen their kiss. Dean heard the un-welcomed ring of his cell phone and ignored it. He continued exploring the sweet depths of her mouth with amazing thoroughness, drawing aphrodisiacal whimpers from her. He drank in her responses as he held her close, tangling his fingers in the silky strands of hair, claiming her mouth with a thoroughness that shook him. Despite his efforts, the ringing finally sliced through his overwhelmed senses. He knew it was Sam calling to find out where they were. He rejected all thoughts of answering the infuriating device. To answer he would have to break their kiss, something he was by no means prepared do.

Ariel only vaguely heard Dean's cell phone go off the first time; she was so focused on the sensation of being so thoroughly kissed that the beeping quickly escaped her notice. She slid her free hand up his chest, resting it on his shoulder to lightly grip his shirt, and she would have suspired were it not for his lips fitted perfectly over hers. When she heard the unwelcome sound a second time, she ignored it. She was so involved in the kiss she wasn't aware of the shivers that where coursing through her. The fluid movement of her hips against him when his tongue trapped hers only added to the fire that was wholly consuming her. When she heard the familiar shrieking of her own cell phone, she knew she couldn't ignore it too. A sigh escaped her lips when she lifted her head, a sigh that was somewhat echoed in the groan torn from deep within Dean's chest. Opening her eyes, she saw herself perfectly reflected in his hazel eyes, which were repleted with heat from their kiss. Disregarding the shrieking cell phone, she lowered her lips and moaned softly when he readily took her mouth once more, this time delving deeper, leaving her in no doubt of what it would be like to be loved by this man.

The repeated ringing of their cell phones at length caused him to tear his lips from her with an effort that shocked him down to his very core. The hushed whimper she made when he broke their kiss was so incredibly sexy that he seriously considered whether it was possible that she was a siren. He hadn't realized it would be so difficult to separate himself from her, or how sharp the need to take her mouth once again would be. Groaning, and silently cursing the green-eyed temptress who was evoking such feeling in him, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled his cell phone out in one hurried motion. Flipping it open, he watched her green eyes, which smouldered with the heat and passion he had just discovered lied so close to the surface he could almost feel it burning within her. He cursed audibly into the receiver and decided the first thing he was going to do when he saw his brother was break his damn cell phone.

Ariel shifted, causing a completely new serge of sensations to course through his blood. Yes, he was going to break Sam's cell phone. Right after he beat the shit out of him.

"What!" he snarled, his tone every bit as furious as his temper.

"Dean, where are you? Are you alright?"

Dean decided it was best not to answer that last question. He seriously doubted Sam needed to know his self-control was hanging on by a thread. Ariel had moved again, this time placing her head back on his shoulder, sending each tattered breath over his neck like a caress. He was losing it. He needed to put some distance between them, fast. Before he did something stupid. Ariel inched closer and breathed a kiss on his neck as if she could sense his dwindling self-control and was doing everything within her power to break him. Bringing the phone to his chest to cover the receiver, he shot her a tormented expression. "Dammit, woman are you trying to kill me?"

Her throaty laughter was worse than anything clever retort could have ever been. The sexy sound made Dean realize instantly that she was doing just that; slowly eating away at his self-control, driving him closer and closer to committing suicide. Which is exactly what this would be if he let their kiss become anything more. If Brooke didn't kill him, Frank would skin him alive. Before he had the chance to decide which one would be worse, Ariel's lips were caressing his so precipitously he completely forgot the compromising position he was getting himself into.

Ariel would never know what had gotten into her. She knew that with each kiss she made this whole situation harder. With each caress she was flinging herself closer to the vastly approaching cliff. Even if he hadn't been a Winchester with a 'don't even think about it' sign stapled to his forehead, Dean wasn't the kind of man she wanted to get involved with. He had been through more women in his lifetime then she had passed in a shopping mall during a clearance sale. Nevertheless, the feel of his hands on her face and tangled in her hair, of his lips against hers, silenced every coherent thought resonating within her inundated brain.

Sam's repeated calls into the cell phone went unanswered until a small working part of Ariel's brain registered the sound. She broke their kiss despite the coaxing weight of Dean's hands entangled in her hair. Brushing his lips between each breathe she managed to collect enough oxygen in her lungs to place the phone next to her cheek before venting her frustration on the cause of her agitation. "What the hell do you want Sam?"

"Ariel?" Sam's shock carried clear through the receiver.

"What do you want?" she repeated, irritated down to her core.

"What's going on?"

She laughed at the question, knowing full well there wasn't a chance in hell of her answering it. Dean's eyes were watching her, his breathing as ragged as hers. She cursed under her breath, wondering why, of all the times Sam could have picked to check up on them, he chose now. She was going to kill him. Right after she broke his cell phone.

"Are you alright?" Concern rang clear through his voice.

"Peachy."

Dean watched Ariel with eyes that burned. For the first time in his life, he wanted the one woman he could never have. Maybe that's what was so alluring about her  the knowledge that he could never have her. As she hung up the phone the cold reality of that fact hit him like a blow. He never should have touched her. He should have driven straight back to Red Bridge last night. Why hadn't he? The cold hard truth was hard as stone and cold as ice to his soul. He wanted her. He knew exactly what would happen if they stayed here. He knew, but he didn't care. And that's what scared him the most.

"We should go before they come looking for us." Ariel tried to keep her tone light. She wanted nothing more then to lower her lips and have him take her mouth like he had moments before, teaching her new things about herself she never knew. She wanted him. But she knew this had to stop. Now.

Dean said nothing as she stood, biting back the groan that wanted to rip through him when her soft weight lifted from his, taking with it any promise of the passionate exploration that just moments ago had been within his grasp. He said nothing as they walked to the car and drove back to Red Bridge.

Ariel decided his silence was far worse then any censure could have been. As they pulled into the Red Bridge Motel and Dean killed the engine, she promised herself she was just going to get out of the car in silence, walk to her room, change, and go for a run. She needed to run almost and badly as she needed his lips pressed to hers once more. She shook her head, mentally banding the thought. He was everything she couldn't have. And she knew it. Getting involved with him only spelled the kind of trouble she had spent a lifetime avoiding. But knowing that didn't stop her from needing him as much as her next breath. When the car came to a halt and the engine sputtered into silence, she reached for the door handle, nearly leaping out of the car as soon as the door was open. She rounded the front of the car with her eyes glued to the ground. When she saw his boots she stopped dead in her tracks and look up at the man who had successfully managed to shatter her world with a simple kiss.

He wasn't going to kiss her. He had decided that the minute they had left Jacko Point. He wasn't going to let himself be tortured by the smouldering heat of her mouth again. Kissing her would be like willingly throwing himself into a fire pit, knowing full well he would never come out the same, if he came out at all. No, he wouldn't kiss her. Yet that's exactly what he did the moment her eyes met his. One last kiss, he told himself, just enough to remind him of what it felt like to fall of the edge of the world and land in a sea of passion that promised unrequited ecstasy. One last kiss, as fierce and intense as their need for each other. When he released her, her breath was ragged, her body quivering with unexpressed hunger, her eyes were glazed over with the passion he had arisen in her. Only the knowledge that if he kissed her once more he could take her right then and there, to hell with whomever saw, kept him from exploring the heat of her mouth once more, despite every fibre of his being wanting to do just that. He swore one vicious word and closed his eyes, willing himself to wake up from this dream. But when he opened his eyes there she was, the only woman he had ever wanted this deeply, and the only woman he could never have.

-----

"Ari?" Sam called to Ariel across the parking lot. She was standing outside of her motel room with a glazed over expression. He walked up to her as she bent to tie her shoelaces. Donning a light grey tracksuit and white runners, her wet hair was tied back and her mouth was set in a determined line. She looked like she was preparing for what look like a hard run. "Are you all alright?"

"Fine, I just need a run," she said quickly as she finished lacing her shoes, stood, and took off running. No pause, no ceremony, just a full out stride from a standing position.

It was the look on her face that made him chase after her. She looked like she was being torn in two. The anxiety in her voice bothered him. He didn't pause to call out her name again or ask her to stop. He knew she could hear nothing but the beating of her heart in her ears. So he ran. Knowing that at the speed she was pushing herself, he'd be lucky to catch up to her.

Ariel pushed herself to the limits; she rounded the corner of the trail with such speed she would have skidded off if she hadn't ran the trail every morning over the past few days. She needed to run with an intensity that was as compelling as her need to put distance between her and the man who had managed to single handily break her ironclad self-control. Even after showering she could still feel every place her body had touched his. His taste lingered on her tongue. She had never been kissed so completely, and the realization that he had enjoyed kissing her as much as she did only fuelled the overflowing energy driving her forward. Ignoring the tearing feeling of gravel assaulting her heels, she pushed harder, faster, needing to burn some of the energy that was jumping around her veins. She could feel each tendon in her legs burning with the force of her speed. She felt each muscle quiver, threatening to stop dead if she kept up at this pace. Instead of obeying her body, she brought her arms in tighter, adjusting her posture, and hastened the steady beat of her feet. She wasn't going to stop until she had driven the need eating at her down to an acceptable, manageable level.

A mile or so later when Sam rounded the last corner of the trail he dug his heels in hard to come to stop. Ariel was laying on a rock mass on her back, panting from the intensity of her run. Sam paused, bending over and resting his hand on his thighs, taking in the air his lungs demanded. When his breathing evened out once more he straightened and walked over to Ariel, propping his back against one of the smoother rocks. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she huffed.

"Liar." Nudging her over, Sam laid down next to her on the granite shelf. Using his arms as a headrest, he laid his head back and turned it slightly to look at his friend. The anxiety in her voice had subsided noticeably, and though she still look like she was battling some sort of inner demons, her eyes no longer held the torment they had when he had first started chasing her.

"Sam, I'm an idiot!" Ariel exclaimed before bringing her arm over her eyes in an effort to block out the piercing rays of the sun. She was. Why on earth had she kissed Dean? Quickly discarding the obvious reasons, she settled on temporary insanity. Yes, that had to be it. No sane woman, knowing what she did about Dean Winchester, would have been stupid enough to kiss him.

"What happened?" Sam pressed quietly. After the run Ariel had just subjected him to, he knew something was eating at her. She never went balls out for the fun of it. It was too taxing on the muscles. Increasing her chances of injury was something she never did.

"I kissed him." She said it softly, part of her hoping the whisper would escape Sam's ears. She wondered if the heat that was taxing her was from the intensity of her run or the sun that seemed to be blazing with unusual potency.

"Dean?" It wasn't really a question, more like a shocked comment in question form.

"Yeah." Biting her lips and cursing herself for calling the memory back to her mind, she bitterly admitted the sad truth. She would gladly do it again if given the opportunity. What the hell was wrong with her?

"I don't know what to say." He didn't. Sam knew the two had been flirting shameless, but given Brooke's general hatred for Dean, he had never thought that Dean would let anything come of it. Other than that, Ariel was Dean's type in all ways but one. Ariel wasn't the casual relationship kind.

"I'm an idiot," Ariel repeated, willing the malaise from her run to replace the unease mounting in her head.

Sam started laughing, getting a very mean spirited look shot at him from Ariel for his effort. On one hand, he couldn't help but be happy for his brother. Dean only ever seemed to hook up with a never-ending stream of mindless tarts. It wasn't healthy. Sam wanted better for his big brother. Dean deserved it. Every decent girl Dean had taken an interest in was unavailable in one way or another. On the other hand, as awesome as his best friend was for his brother, her sister was about as likely to kill Dean for looking at Ariel as Sam was if he hurt her. Which, knowing his brother's emotional detachment, was a very real possibility. So Sam laid there thinking, unsure of how to respond, but he was pretty sure nothing he had to say would quite capture the sentiments Brooke was likely to have on the subject.

"Relax Ari, it was just a kiss." He paused for a moment as concern quickly filled his voice. "Right?"

-----

The entrance bell rang as Dean entered the Silver Spoon diner. He was expecting to find Sam picking at some eggs and bacon, but instead the diner was relatively vacant. Vacant but for the red head holed up in the back booth, the back of her head to the door. That wasn't like Brooke at all. She always made sure to keep her eyes on the exits. Given their line of work, it was a very good habit to have. After readjusting his khaki shirt over the grey t-shirt he was wearing, Dean placed his order with the waitress, who decided this was the moment to introduce herself as Tabitha, and headed towards Brooke, making sure to announce his presence so as not to get an elbow in the groin, which was known to happen when one surprised Brooke Cooper. "Hey Coop."

Brooke didn't respond until Dean tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder, making sure his family jewels were well out of reach before he did. His hand on her shoulder brought her out of her silent rumination. "What?"

"You okay?" Dean's voice filled with a concern he would never openly admit. There were few emotions he would allow himself to cop to. Concern was rarely one of them. He set himself opposite his friend and watched her hollowed eyes intently.

"Fine." Glancing at her forgotten coffee Brooke reached out and took a sip. It was stone cold. Dammit all to hell. Setting the cold brew back on the tabletop, she forced a smile she didn't feel and willed her eyes to focus on the man who was watching her as if she had just come back from the dead. "I'm fine, Dean."

"Miss out on some shut eye there, Brooke?"

"Yeah. Bad fish," she lied. If he could tell, he decided to let it go. That was one good thing about him. He never pushed the issue. She didn't want to talk about it; he wouldn't try to make her. He wasn't an evil man. Just self-absorbed and careless, she decided.

"Say no more." Dean gave her one of his 'all is right with the world' smiles as the waitress placed his order of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him. "Thanks Tabitha."

When Tabitha started pouring Dean's cup of coffee Brooke quickly asked if she could have a fresh cup and an order of pancakes and bacon. Smiling and grabbing a cup off one of the surrounding tables, Tabitha quickly filled the cup and took Brooke's old one away.

"So where were you to last night?" Brooke asked as she poured enough sugar in her cup to supply the needs of a small lemonade stand, stirred the dark liquid with her spoon, and took a sip of the hot coffee. If she hadn't have had such a rough night she would have been furious at the thought of her sister spending the night alone with Dean. However, Dean wasn't avoiding direct eye contact so she figured nothing had happened. Not that she really cared at this point. It would be his funeral if he were ever stupid enough to touch Frank Cooper's baby girl. Even Dean wasn't that stupid. Besides, had Ariel been there last night she would have been subjected to four years worth of pain and anguish, something Brooke had tried desperately to avoid since her little sister had become empathic. Wherever they had gone, it was a good thing Ariel hadn't been near her last night.

"Sorry?" Dean asked before shovelling a fork full of food into his mouth. He wasn't surprised by the question; he had known she would ask. He had thought of several acceptable variations of the truth, none of which included falling asleep on the beach with Ariel in his arms, or kissing her like she was fire and he was a man dying from the cold. Definitely not.

"When did you get in?" Brooke asked, not really noticing Dean's avoidance. She was far too tired to notice anything that wasn't spelled out clearly in big black and white letters.

"About twenty minutes or so." Dean reached for his coffee and drank slowly, hoping the caffeine would help shake some of this morning's stupefaction from his mind.

"No wonder your downing coffee. What, did you sleep in the car?" Brooke asked. Her inquisitiveness was definitely piqued. She knew full well there were no motels in Jacko Point. Not that that idea was anymore pleasing to dwell on. The last thing she wanted to hear was Ariel and Casanova had spent the night in a motel room together.

Dean tried to focus solely on the food on his plate and not on the look Brooke was giving him. It was ridden with curiosity and apprehension. So much for not having to lie his way out of this one. "Something like that."

"Do I want to know?" Brooke asked, watching Dean's eyes for any trace of deception. He always shifted his eyes quickly to the one side before delivering a complete falsehood. As long as his eyes didn't shift, she didn't have to beat the truth out of him. Though, given her mood, the thought wasn't all that unappealing. She needed to get some practice in.

"We were talking and dozed off." It wasn't a lie.

"Talking, huh?" Brooke's eyes stayed trained on his as she mentally went through his list of tells. Everyone had them, even the best poker players. If you looked long and hard enough, you could make them out.

Dean looked up from the dwindling pile of pancakes on his plate and met Brooke's gaze straight on. She knew how to tell if he was lying. But until she didn't give him a choice, he was going to stick as close to the truth as sense would dictate. The less suspicious she got, the less chance there was of her asking a question he couldn't answer. A question that would cause a whole new world of trouble. "Talking. You know, what we're doing now?"

"Good," she answered as the red clad waitress brought her order of food, placing it on the table, and quickly refilling both of their coffee cups before disappearing again.

"Good?" Dean queried before returning to his pancakes.

After cutting into the piping-hot mound of pancakes, Brooke shot him a raffish smirk. "Yeah, talking is acceptable."

"Thanks for the permission, Coop." Dean smiled before popping some bacon into his mouth. She was going to kill him the minute she found out. He was a dead man.

"You're lucky I let you talk to her at all!" Brooke snapped. She wanted so much to hate him. Everything that had happened last night only fuelled that desire. Yet as mad as she got at him, he always managed to wriggle his way out of it with one of those damned jaunty smiles. Simpering son of a bitch. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Dean's face filled with an innocence he didn't possess. His tone echoed the confusion in his raised eyebrows. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing in particular. Dammit all to hell," she said into her coffee cup, irritated by his ability to feign purity.

"You need therapy." He smirked.

"Trust me I know. But I have really shitty benefits."

The laughter that erupted between the two reminded them both of why they had become friends in the first place. They had had a love/hate relationship from day one. Yet despite her desire to hate him, she couldn't. Not completely. She loved him too damned much and he knew it. He was the closest thing she had ever come to having a brother, and despite it all, he was still her best friend. They had all the important stuff in common. And they shared the same philosophy. Life's a bitch, so you'd better get use to it and make the most of it while you can.

"I hate you, you know that?" Acceptance filled her voice and she smiled in spite of herself. Yes, regardless of what had happened years ago, they were still friends. Whether she liked it or not.

Picking up his coffee cup once again, he took a drink, smiled, and winked. "I know."

-----

"You already ate!" Ariel snapped at her sister with the remainder of her anxiety. Brooke was sitting beside her stealing her bacon. If she didn't know that Dean and Brooke had just finished their own breakfast, she wouldn't have minded quite so much.

"Your point?" Brooke asked as she reached for another piece of golden, crisp bacon. She was still hungry, and Ariel was taking forever to finish.

"Stop eating my food." Slapping her sister's hand away from her plate, Ariel followed her words with a scowl, using her foot to kick her sister under the table in the process.

"Fine." Brooke knew when to back off; she wasn't going to get anymore food out of her surly little sister, so she reached over to Sam's plate, grabbed a piece of bacon, and started munching happily. "I'll drop you and Sam off at that laundry mat after you finish eating."

"Like hell you will!" Ariel snapped as she whacked Brooke for stealing food from Sam.

Ignoring her sister's repeated whacks to her shoulder, she reached for another piece of bacon and flashed Sam a smile of thanks before eating that piece as well. "You don't want clean clothes, Ari?"

"I did them last time!" Ariel glared at her sister as she replaced the bacon Brooke had stolen from Sam's plate.

Ignoring the hushed laughter that was coming from Dean and Sam as they watched the display, Brooke caught her sister's gaze and very calmly said, "No you didn't."

"Yeah, I did," Ariel attested forcefully. Reaching over Sam's plate and grabbing the maple syrup he had just finished using, she drenched her remaining pancakes in the sugary mixture and continued eating, despite her sister's intrusions.

"Did not!" Brooke said as she shot Dean an irked expression across the table when he started openly laughing.

"Oh my god, I can't believe we're still having the same argument a decade later." Ariel leaned her head back on the padded booth. Sam gave her a sympathetic smile, silently reminding her how annoying older siblings could be. She returned his knowing smile, tapped her nose lightly, and turned back to her sister before continuing, "I did them last time, period."

"Fine." Brooke was too tired to really argue anyway, and her sister was right  she had done them last time. "I'll do the laundry, you get the salt."

"Salt?" Both Ariel and Sam asked in unison. When they had come into the diner, Dean and Brooke had mentioned getting that they had to get laundry done before staking out Ethan Wallace's house. But not once in that conversation had salt been mentioned.

"There's a salt mine past Jacko Point. Great stuff. Dad always picked some up for his rounds," Brooke answered to no one in particular.

"I don't know where it is," Ariel said, raising her eyebrows with surprise.

"Dean does. He's going to get some for them too," Brooke said as she stole another piece of bacon off Sam's plate with a smile.

Ariel was too surprised by this knowledge to notice her sister's thievery. For the first time since they had left Jacko Point, she spoke directly to Dean. "You know where the mine is?"

"This isn't my first time in Canada. Mind you, last time we blitzed the place. So it was more of a drive through than an actual visit," Dean answered, making sure his eyes stayed on the coffee cup in his hand. He had a funny feeling that if he looked directly at Ariel he was liable to remember the look on her face after he had kissed her in the parking lot. With Brooke sitting straight across from him there was little chance she wouldn't pick up on it.

"Well the sooner we get that out of the way, the sooner we can focus back on the ring," Brooke piped in, unaware of the increasing tension building around the table. "The guy plays bingo with his mom on Thursday nights at the church. We need to get in his house tonight."

"Agreed." Dean's word screamed finality. It was tonight, or not at all. They needed to search that house from top to bottom and back again to find the ring. Assuming Ethan wasn't already wearing it. But given there hadn't been any unexplained deaths, there was a good chance he wasn't.

"I still can't believe you dumped out that poor guy's ashes," Ariel stated quietly, the shock she had had when Sam and Brooke had told her about the empty urn they had left in Erin Wallace's niche still evident in her voice.

"He killed four people! Try not to sympathize, sis," Brooke scolded. Her sister was always putting herself in the other person's perspective. It was nothing personal, and Brooke wasn't going to let her sister make it so.

"Indirectly," Ariel said after she finished her pancakes, before adding, "Before the ring the guy never harmed a fly."

"Details!" Brooke stood abruptly, grabbing one last piece of bacon off Sam's plate, before she up started out the door. If she was doing the laundry, she needed to collect all her crap and sort it before they left. Mixing words with her sister was just a waste of daylight.

"That girl really needs to get laid," Tabitha remarked as she approached the table, left the cheque on the tabletop, and headed back to the front counter.

"You're telling me," Dean muttered under his breath as he shook his head, before taking another long drink of his coffee.

Sam narrowed his eyes and kicked his brother under the table. Hard. "Behave yourself!"

Ariel winked and gave Sam a wicked grin before speaking. "Don't worry about it Sammy, if he gets out of line I'll give him a good spanking."

The look of stunned disbelief Dean had was echoed in his brother's expression. Once the shock of her words sunk in Dean crooked one eyebrow and matched her grin. "That would sure be an interesting theory to test out."

Without letting her grin fail she slid out of her seat, making sure to let her feet brush past Dean's, before she exited the booth. Ariel's little chat with Sam had convinced her that there was nothing wrong with a little healthy flirtation, as long as it stayed at that. Grabbing the cheque and turning towards the front of the diner, she called back over her shoulder, "You wish."

Sam slid out of the booth following Ariel towards the exit juddering his head the whole way, silently regretting Brooke and Ariel's sisterhood. There was no doubt in his mind that if Brooke was removed from the equation Ariel and Dean would have made a good couple. She was just sassy enough to keep his brother in his place.

Dean laughed. He couldn't help liking Ariel in spite of every cell in his brain telling him exactly what kind of trouble she could get him into. He made sure she and Sam were out of sight before he too left the diner. He didn't want to risk bumping into her on the way back to the motel. The smile she had given him told him exactly what would happen. Dammit it all if he didn't want to chase after her for that very reason.

-----


	8. Chapter 8 Revealing Relations

* * *

Chapter Eight – **Revealing Relations**

* * *

Brooke grabbed the last of her clothes and shoved them into the duffel bag that was already filled to the brim. Regardless of how light the two sisters packed, they always managed to have too many clothes. Especially on laundry day. Grumbling something unladylike, Brooke yanked the hem of her burnt orange t-shirt back down over her faded jeans before casting a glance at the jacket lying next to her keys on the bed. Deciding against wearing a jacket in the abnormal heat, she threw the light coat in the duffel bag and started scanning the room for any remaining clothes. The soft click of the bathroom door told Brooke her sister had finally finished her shower. Looking up to see two blue towels moving towards her still made bed, Brooke held back a chuckle. "Hey Ari, can you breath okay?"

"Yeah," Ariel's muffled voice called through blue bathroom towel that she was currently drying her face and hair with.

"Where's that green jacket of yours? I was going to wash it with mine." Brooke shifted through the remainder of clothes she hadn't already searched through. There was only one bottle-green jacket. Her sister's jade jacket was no where insight.

"Should be with my stuff from last night," Ariel said as her face emerged from the thick terrycloth.

"Nope."

Making a puzzled look before hastily scanning the room for the green fabric, Ariel shrugged as she reached for her comb on the nightstand. "I must have left it somewhere."

"Check the car." Brooke set the fully loaded duffel bags by the door before plopping down on her bed.

"You okay?" Ariel couldn't help but feel as though there was something going on behind her sister's tired expression. Grabbing a pair of stone-washed jeans and a faded purple t-shirt along with the remaining clean clothes that were tossed over the edge of the bed, she slipped back into the bathroom to dress hurriedly.

"I'm just a little tired," Brooke called. Having just managed to sit through breakfast without letting last night's reminiscence tax her emotions, the last thing Brooke wanted to do was discuss what was hovering about in her mind. Least of all with her little sister.

"You sleep like a log. What's up?" Ariel's voice easily carried through the small bathroom door. As did the concern written in her voice.

"Nothing." Brooke's brash tone belied her words.

"Brooke!" Ariel pushed. Whatever had kept her sister from sleeping was clearly something that warranted discussion. She knew without her empathetic abilities there was little more she could do to get to the bottom of this than pester her sister into confession.

When Ariel didn't break into her usual 'I know something is wrong, I can feel it' speech, Brooke promptly remembered the delightful situation she found herself in. "Oh that's right; you're not empathic at the moment. Oh, it must be killing you not being able to run through my emotions, huh?"

Emerging from the bathroom, Ariel shot her sister a piercing look that thoroughly expressed her displeasure. Making a huffed sound, she skirted the beds and headed towards the front door.

"Tell Sam I want to leave in five minutes," Brooke called, satisfaction ringing clear in her tone.

Ariel opened the front door, walked through the entrance way and childishly stuck her tongue out at Brooke before slamming the door shut. Brooke's genial laughter carried through the door and made a smile creep up her lips despite her annoyance. Dropping the tan sneakers she had carried out on to the floor, Ariel kicked into the shoes before jogging the short distance down the walkway to Dean and Sam's room. Rounding the corner, she slowed down, walking calmly past their closed window, heading straight for the sun bleached blue painted door. The golden number nine had finally given way to the repeated abuse of tenants slamming the door and had inverted itself against the rusting nail keeping it from falling. Her smile widened when she heard the familiar voices of the men shouting cat-calls to each other from just inside the room.

Ariel raised her hand to knock on the door, but before her hand made contact with the wooden surface the door swung open as Dean practically walked right into her. After exchanging mutual sounds of surprise and making sure they were both still in one piece, the green fabric bunched up in his left hand caught her attention. "Hey, is that my jacket?"

He pulled the jade fabric clear of the door and held it out to her. "You forgot it in my car."

"I swear I've got my head on backwards today." Taking the jacket from his grasp, she neatly folded the fabric over her arm and gave Dean a bright smile. "Thanks Dean. Just don't tell Sam."

Dean thought for a moment he had misheard her. "Sam?"

Ariel couldn't feel the shock that her words had caused. "Yeah, I don't think Sam would have forgiven me if I lost it."

"You're right, I wouldn't," Sam spoke causally as he finished drying his hair vigorously with a bath towel and disappeared into the bathroom to collect some more clothes.

"See." Ariel smiled. "Your brother's finical."

"Well, considering I bought it for you on our first date. I don't think so," Sam said as he walked back into the room carrying a few random articles of clothing that he promptly shoved into the duffel bag he was packing up. "Are you coming in?"

"No time." Glancing at the silver toned diving watch on her right wrist; she looked at Sam and crooked her head towards Dean before continuing, "Besides your brother might try to knock me off my feet again."

"You mean sweep?" Sam asked, turning to look at the pair standing in the door way. Dean was snickering as Ariel gave him a warning smirk.

"Nope. Nearly knocked me flat on my posterior. Brooke's leaving in five minutes Sammy. So, if you boys will excuse me, I want to get this in the laundry." Ariel smiled at the two before darting off towards her motel room, jacket in tow.

Dean shut the door before silently crossing the room to sit down on one of the chairs by the table opposite his brother, who was fitting clothes neatly into the worn duffel bag sitting in front of him. He watched Sam intently, mentally phrasing the question he wanted to ask.

Sam finished packing the bag and caught the expression on Dean's face. He looked confused or upset; Sam couldn't tell which. "What?"

"I thought you two were just friends."

"We are." Sam added with a smile, "Now."

Trying to keep his voice light, Dean asked circumspectly, "How long did you date?"

"Oh, this can't be good." Sam pushed the bag on the bed aside and sat down, watching his brother's expression carefully.

"What are you talking about?" Dean queried, forcing himself to look shocked.

"You like her."

"She's gorgeous, of course I like her." It wasn't a complete bending of the truth; she was gorgeous.

"No, Dean. It's more than that. You really like her."

"Please," Dean protested while maintaining his best poker face.

"Well, if Brooke didn't hate your ass so bad, I'd say go for it." Sam kicked his feet back on to the bed as he lay down. With an ear to ear grin, he remarked, "She likes you too."

-----

"Are you sure you know where you're going?"

Dean made a frustrated sound before answering the same question for the third time, "Yes."

"I don't see any salt mines on the map," Ariel pointed out in a chaffing manner as she pushed her darkened glasses up into her hair.

"That's because it's not on the map," Dean said as he grabbed the chart from Ariel's grasp and threw it on to the backseat. "Technically, Ontario doesn't have any salt mines."

Ariel gave Dean a look of annoyance bordering on irritation before twisting around in her seat to fish over the backseat for her bedevilled map. "Then what are we doing if there aren't any in Ontario?"

"I said _technically_ there are no mines." Dean did his best to keep his eyes on the road despite the interesting position Ariel had twisted herself into to reach the map. She was completely bent over the seatback, legs crossed at the ankles, attempting to keep herself from falling over into the backseat.

The map was just beyond her reach. Grumbling under her breath and bracing her feet against the dashboard, she stretched her full length until her fingers made contact with the crumpled paper. Once Ariel grabbed the chart she made an agitated sound when she found she had tittered too far on the other side and was unable to return to her seat. Dean's hand lightly tugged on her ankle, readjusting her balance. She seized the momentary balance and swiftly twisted back into her seat, opening the map once again as though she had never left it.

Giving Ariel an amused sideways glance, Dean continued, "It's on private property. Only a few locals know about it."

"Whatever you say." Ariel folded the map she had been scouring and shoved it into the box under her seat.

"Whatever I say, huh?" Dean jested as an iniquitous grin crept up the corners of his mouth.

Ariel shot Dean a cautionary expression before bringing her legs up, resting her sneakers on the tan dashboard that oddly matched her shoes. Crossing her ankles and leaning her head back on her seat in an effort to relax, she pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes.

Dean quickly switched the tape deck on, hoping that music would keep Ariel from getting restless. There had been an unease between them since they had got into the car. He wasn't sure if he was uneasy with her, or if it was the other way around. Ever since Sam had mentioned that he and Ariel had dated before becoming friends, Dean felt a little strange around her. He had never been attracted to someone his brother had liked, or for that matter, dated. It just hadn't been an issue in the past. They liked very different women. But Dean liked Ariel. This was a problem in more ways than one.

Once he saw the trail markers Dean switched on his signal indicator and pulled off the gravel road they were coasting and on to a dirt path. Ariel fought to urge to question the change in course. A part of her understood that Dean knew exactly where he was going, but the larger, more galling part of her needed to keep her mind off the feeling of uncertainty that was wafting her psyche. Mentally reviewing the day's events, she could find nothing that accounted for Dean's sudden apprehension. Only a few hours before he had kissed like she was water and he was a man dying of thirst. They had managed to eat breakfast and interact as though nothing had happened at the diner, but she had assumed that was for Brooke's benefit. The thought that maybe Dean was experiencing second thoughts did nothing to ease her restiveness.

The impala came to stop on a small mound near the base of a hill that had an extremely minute beaten path ascending the incline. Turning the engine off, Dean opened his car door, pocketed his keys before opening the back door, and grabbed a small empty duffel bag from the seat. Noticing Ariel hadn't moved, he peered inside the car only to be pinned by an intense green gaze. "Are you planning to move at some point?"

Pulling out of her silent reflection, she blinked and tried to remember the question Dean was waiting for an answer to. "Huh?"

"It's a hike in, so if you don't want to come I can bring back some for you," Dean offered. It was probably better for the two of them to spend some time apart. He needed to think.

"I'm coming," Ariel said as she opened her door and filed out of the car hastily.

"Of course you are," Dean muttered as he started to walk past the car and onto the dirt path leading up the hill.

The moment her feet touched the clay like dirt Ariel was thankful she wore sneakers. By the looks of the foot-beaten trail, it was going to be a long walk. The pair ascended the pathway in relative silence, enjoying the scene unfolding with each step. They ventured further into the parkland. The trees of the forested area were thick and lush in the early summer heat. Varied masses of emerald, jade, and olive only managed to showcase the viridity of the dwindling grass line as it gave way to the emblazoned mulch blanketing of the forest floor. The sun was slowing, heading towards its apex in the sky, casting its rays on every surface of the woodland, even kissing the dirt path with its golden glow. The mulch rapidly gave way to a rock mass that clung to the hillside so deeply there would be no hope of separating the two. As they continued on the way, a small break in the tree line afforded a good view of the tree-littered valley down the way. Where the sky met the tree tops, the vivid azure crystallized the white of the billowing clouds that were hop scotching the heavens.

The faint knocking of the woodpecker's beak diligently widening his home was silenced by a loud bang. It didn't take long for Dean and Ariel to register the sound as a shot gun round. The once peaceful forest atmosphere was filled with the clamouring noises and calls of birds and other wildlife startled by the unnatural reverberation. Ariel was already bolting towards a tree when Dean pulled her in behind the large maple he was using for cover. With a skill only time bestows, they evened out their breathing until it was all but inaudible. Silently removing a silver plated handgun from the slate grey bag he was carrying, Dean handed the bag to Ariel before edging his way around the maple to look in the direction of the shot. The loud sound of another round resonated through the forest with as much force as the shell hit the tree. Jumping back just in time to feel the shotgun round hitting the maple, Dean started swearing in an icy monotone before shoving the gun he held into his jean pocket and pinning the butt with his belt.

"Get off my property!" an aged male voice called heatedly. The sound of the gun's barrels being reloaded served as a warning. This man meant business.

"Ray!" Dean raised his voice to make sure it carried across the forest floor. "Ray! It's Dean Winchester! Remember, I came here with Frank and John a few years back?"

"Frank? You know Frank? How?" the voice asked, disbelief clearly marked in each word.

"He's friends with my dad. John Winchester," Dean yelled back.

"John?" There was silence for a moment, and then the realization hit him. "Oh, you're John's boy Dean!"

"That's right." Dean couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he edged his way back into view, hands up to show he meant no harm.

"Who's that with you?" the older man asked.

"Frank's daughter Ariel." Dean reached behind the maple and grabbed Ariel's wrist, slightly tugging her out into view. She gave him a baleful look for removing her from her position of safety.

"Wrong hair colour. Frank's wife was blonde."

"I know. She's the black sheep of the family. Can we come up or are you going to shoot us?" Dean chuckled, though in the back of his mind he wasn't quite sure if coming here had been a good idea.

"Sure. Come on up. You kids hungry or anything?"

"No, we're good," Dean said as he took his bag from Ariel and swung it up over his shoulder. Making sure to keep Ariel behind him at all times, he started trekking up the twenty foot mountain path that led to Ray's cabin. Once they reached the top, Dean read the tranquil expression on the older man's face before he offered his hand to Ariel to help her up the last step. Deliberately ignoring his offer of help she took the last step in stride and shot Dean an annoyed glance before looking towards the man who had just moments before tried to kill them. The hoary man looked to be in his late sixties. About five foot nine, wearing worn denim overalls and a red and black plaid shirt despite the heat. Grey beard was trimmed neatly, as was his hair, though it was mostly covered by a black Ottawa Senators cap.

"Ari, I'd like you to meet Ray Ramseyer."

-----

"Don't tell me you use that!" Sam started laughing at the sight of a small blue bottle with a yellowish brown teddy bear above the bright azure label.

"Snuggles? Oh yeah! Blue sparkle all the way."

Sam curbed his laughter once the smell of vanilla and lilacs filled the air. Despite the stupid mascot the fabric softener smelled wonderful. Noting Sam's silence she offered the bottle to him.

"No thanks. Somehow vanilla would only smell right on you and Ariel."

"I see your point." Brooke laughed. Despite being stuck doing the laundry she was in a good mood. Sam and Brooke had spent most of the trip to the laundromat recounting tales of their youth. The kind of stories they just couldn't tell other people. Most people didn't know how to melt silver down for bullets. And few would enjoy any tales that began with 'after he shot it'.

Sam shoved the last of his clothes into the silver metal washing machine and closed the glass window. Rifling through his pockets he pulled out a wad of change and placed six silver-toned quarters into the money slot. After selecting the cycle he wanted, the machine jumped to life. Water started rushing in over the clothes like a dam had just broken. Once the water filled the glass window a loud surging click sent the clothes spinning over one another as the suds from the laundry detergent clouded the colourful mound of clothing. Sam repeated the process with three more washers before he hopped up on top of the counter in the center of the room. Brooke finished adding the soap and fabric softener to each of her washers after closing the glass doors. Once her washing machines were waterlogged and suds filled she joined Sam on the counter. Noticing the faded topaz was a close match to the striped shirt Sam was wearing; Brooke chuckled and motioned to the décor in the room. "You match quite nicely there, Sammy."

Furrowing his brows he followed Brooke's motion. He hadn't really paid the laundromat any attention until that point. Shades of yellow and brown piggybacked each other on the semi chequered wallpaper. The floors were messed tones of tans and muddy greens. Looking down at the counter he was sitting on the topaz lines in his shirt were a near perfect match. The only thing that kept his shirt from blending in was the bold stripes of cerulean straddling the topaz. Even the t-shirt he wore under it was brown. Laughing, he smiled. "You're right."

When the door bell chimed both Sam and Brooke turned towards the sound in a smooth motion that spoke of the kind of training they had. Two young women entered carrying white laundry baskets, laughing and conversing softly in French. The blonde and brunette were about Brooke's height and build and seemed to be a little younger than Sam. Seeing that there was nothing to cause alarm, Brooke turned her attention back to the swirling mass of bubbles that had completely submerged her clothes. Brooke couldn't help but laugh as the two women made a point of unloading their laundry on the dryers opposite Sam as they whispered quietly between themselves. The brunette approached them slowly with a smile fixed on her face as she focused on Sam and asked him if he had change for a five in French. The look on his face was priceless: one of complete and utter confusion. Brooke bit back her laughter and decided not to translate the question for him. This was going to be funny as hell.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Sam tried his best not to sound as surprised as he was.

The brunette frowned and said something else in French. Sam responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a brisk shake of his head. The language she spoke sounded European of some kind, but he couldn't pin down the origin. When he heard the word Français in her next question he quickly added. "I don't speak French."

His comment didn't seem to register because she kept talking. Giving Brooke a pleading look he racked his brain for any of the French phrases he had learned after a student from France had joined his study group. "Je ne parle pas Français."

She muttered something under her breath and turned back to her friend who was laughing softy. After a brief exchange of words the brunette headed out the door in search of change.

Brooke bit down on her lip with the force required not to burst into laughter. Sam turned to her and whispered quietly so his words didn't reach the blonde sorting her whites and darks into two neat piles. "Don't you speak French?"

"Fluently," Brooke snickered.

Staring at her for a moment he asked inquisitively, "Any particular reason you didn't say anything?"

"First of all, I don't interpret. For anyone. Second, if they knew I spoke French they'd stop talking. To be frank, it's rather entertaining."

"What is?" Sam wasn't sure if it was his confusion or the young women's conversation that was providing Brooke's amusement.

"Their conversation," Brooke answered quietly; making sure her voice didn't carry past Sam.

Curiosity rang clear in his tone as he whispered, "Care to share?"

"Not really." Smiling, Brooke shook her head; the motion released a few wayward strain of red hair from behind her ear.

Sam made a frustrated sound as he rolled his eyes. Despite his annoyance, he was smiling. The bell chimed again, signifying the brunette's entrance back into the laundromat. She walked back to her friend after casting Sam a disappointed look. The two women started talking loudly again, confident their conversation couldn't be overheard.

Brooke nearly cut her lip with the force she was biting down with. The brunette was commenting on the lack of good looking Frenchmen in the town and the blonde was asserting that though the dark haired man behind them was English she would gladly overlook that flaw. "Imagine how much more interesting a date would be if your only means of communication was body language," she added with a wicked grin. The brunette smiled widely and agreed before sounding off a list of things she would gladly do to bridge the gap.

When the two started laughing and making eyes at Sam between annotations Brooke couldn't ignore the curiosity written in his face. Edging closer to him and leaning in so her words went no farer than his ear, Brooke started translating word for word everything the girls had said from the moment they had entered the laundromat up to and including the words they were saying at the moment. The sound of his laughter carried over to the women who had decided that arranging their laundry was hardly as important as critiquing the _chaud_ brunette behind them. Turning to see the cause of Sam's laughter they both shot Brooke daggers of hate when they saw her lips brushed against his ear. They went back to their conversation and in between appreciative remarks for Sam's physique they cussed Brooke out.

Brooke didn't miss a word and Sam did his best not to laugh. When the brunette deliberately made a point of dropping a hot pink g-string and provocatively picking it back up before heading to the vacant washers under theirs, the pair burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

"God and some people pay to watch crap like this!"

-----

"Well there it is kids. Help yourselves. Lord knows you need it," Ray said, pointing to a large mound of rock salt piled into the store room.

"Thanks Ray." Dean flashed Ray a smile of gratitude. He had only met him once before, but the aged huntsman clearly hadn't lied when he said his door was always open for hunters. That kind of welcome didn't exist many places. "Is Charlie going to get back soon?"

"Not likely. He's wraith hunting. Unless he managed to find the bloody thing and torch it already. Not very likely though. Doesn't have your speed there kid. I swear you kids have one hell of an advantage. You got schooled from the start. The rest of us had to catch up later in life. Makes for longer hunts and more injuries, unless of course your John or Frank. Never seen two guys with that level of skill. Unnatural is what it is." Ray shook his head and lifted his ball cap off his head long enough to run his left hand through his grey hair. Shoving the cap back into place he turned and walked out of the room muttering something about genetics.

"Charlie?"

"A tyro." Dean placed the grey bag on one of the pine tables in the room and opened it before reaching for the canvas bag lying next to the table. "He's Ray's nephew. Started training him about a decade or so ago."

"He chose to hunt?" Ariel didn't hide the shock in her voice. She grabbed a canvas bag from Dean and walked towards the salt mound.

"Don't sound so shocked." Dean picked up two cold metal scoops from off the wood panelled wall before joining Ariel at the crystal clear white mound. "This gig ain't that bad."

Accepting the scoop with a smile, Ariel began filling the bag she was holding with rock salt. The smell that filled her nostrils was indescribable. That smell only came from freshly mined halite crystals. Quietly realizing that most people had no idea what that smelt like or how useful the coarse mixture could be, she frowned. There were many things she wished she didn't know. Turning to Dean with a pensive look on her face she asked, "If you could choose, would you?"

Dean thought about the question for a moment, then responded in the only way he could, "I don't have a choice."

Ariel was quiet for a moment. She watched Dean start filling his bag with a steady rhythm. He was right; this wasn't a matter of choice. "Good point."

"I told you, you think too much," Dean muttered as he sealed the hessian bag with a piece of rope.

Ariel paid no attention to him as she went back to work. Before much time had passed, they had each filled several bags with the sodium crystals. Gathering them up, they took them over to table where Dean's bag was waiting. Ariel hopped up on to the pine slab and watched silently as Dean started packing, kicking her legs up and down impatiently as she waited. One by one Dean fit the small stacks into his duffel bag with a deceptive laziness, ignoring the annoying vibrations Ariel's kicking was causing to the table. When his task was finished he looked back into the green eyes that hadn't left him for several minutes. Just when he was about to say something clever about patience the look in her eyes changed. That look had been burned into his psyche. It was the same look she had given him this morning on the lakefront. Dammit it all to hell.

"I know it's a little late but can I offer you kids some lunch?" Ray's voice carried through the open door, reminding Dean they weren't alone. Not really.

Turning from Ariel with a speed that befit his need to get away from her, he zipped his duffel bag shut before swinging it over his shoulder. Dean started grumbling something under his breath about temptation before he answered the older man. "Can we take it to go?"

Ray chuckled. "Sure thing."

Even if Dean's incoherent snarling was no indication, Ariel could almost feel the irritation brewing within him. The light stab to her senses warned her that her normalcy was starting to wear off. She would once again be empathic in a matter of hours, by night fall at the latest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Dean! You've been acting weird since we left Red Bridge," Ariel pressed with a determination that was evident in her tone. She wanted an answer. "What's going on?"

Before Dean repeated his previous answer he saw Ariel cross her arms and legs in a manner of sheer irritation. Whatever excuse he came up with wasn't going to cut it. He really didn't relish the thought of spending the entire car ride back arguing. "I'm frustrated. Okay?"

Ariel watched him carefully, waiting for the rest of his answer. When it didn't come she glared at him before questioning him again. "About what?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, silently praying she would leave it at that and let him stew in peace. She didn't, of course.

"Don't patronize me, dammit! What's so frustrating?"

"God, you're worse than Sam!" Dean held his forehead in his palm. The irritation of having this conversation making his voice unusually harsh.

"That's not an answer!" Ariel postulated.

"That's the only one you're going to get," Dean snapped.

"Why can't you just tell me? Unless I had something to do with it. In which case you really should tell me so I can stop doing it!" she demanded.

Dean sniggered spitefully, aggravation giving way to anger. "Stop? God, that's rich! You planning on making gold out of straw while you're at it?"

"Why are you being so damned stubborn?" she cried, matching the venom in his tone to a tee.

"Because I can," he shot back.

Resentment shot out of her in a blast of words that somehow managed to come out lucidly, despite her intense vexation. "Dammit Dean, if you're that pissed off about this morning why the hell don't you just say so and get it over with? Do you honestly think I'm that vapid that I can't handle your rejection?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Surprise quickly doused the fires of his anger and he literally took a step back. Who the hell said anything about rejection?

"You're obviously having second thoughts." Ariel uncrossed her arms and inhaled sharply when she saw the heat of anger in his eyes give way to a look that resembled disbelief. What were they arguing about? "What are you talking about?"

"Trying not to kiss you. Again."

It was her turn to look stunned. "I'm confused."

"I can see that." Dean followed his words with a tantalizing smile that belied any of the rancour that had entered their conversation. Dropping the bag he was holding back on to the table with a loud thud, he ignored the small voice of reason that screamed in the back of his head. Warm hands framed her face lightly, tilting her head to allow his lips to brush over hers.

Tracing her fingertips from his wrists and elbows, searching and finding the quickening beat of his pulse, Ariel pressed her mouth softly against his.

After the sounds of arguing stopped, there was a long stillness. Ray put down the sandwich he was wrapping and listened, straining his ears for any sounds of life. He hadn't heard what the two young hunters had been bickering about; the only sounds that had carried in to the kitchen were muffled words of aggravation, followed by silence. Walking out of the kitchen and heading towards the cellar door he called, "You two alright?"

When he rounded the corner and looked into the wood panelled room Dean was fussing with the zipper of his duffel bag, making certain not to make eye contact with the raven haired girl sitting on the pine table beside him. Switching his attention to Ariel, Ray noticed instantly her breathing was as ragged as her face was red. Shaking his head as he gripped the bridge of his nose before sliding his finger over his grey eyebrows, Ray made a sound that could have been laughter. "Well I'll be damned."

Ariel felt the heat of her flush intensify as the aged hunter turned on his heels and headed out of the room, chuckling softly with each step. This little attraction was causing her more problems then she had expected. The knowledge that she lost her sense of self-control whenever Dean was within two feet of her was not only distressing, it was shocking. But not nearly as shocking as the understanding that she had no desire to put the needed distance between them. Not after knowing the sweet perfection of his mouth. And she was a fool a thousand times over for it.

Hazel eyes watched in silence as the look of embarrassment on Ariel's face changed to frustration and end in heated reminiscence that promptly set her green oculus ablaze. The awareness that he couldn't be alone with her without sampling her lips only added to the frustration that had been building within the moment he discovered this green eyed temptress was a Cooper. She might as well have had 'don't even think about it' tattooed on her forehead. Humour glinted in his eyes as he decided to finish their previous conversation despite the rational side of his brain telling him to pick up his bag, get back to the car, and drive back to the motel to take a very cold shower. "What was that you were saying about rejection?"

"What were you saying about frustration?" she countered softly.

The pair stared at each silently, each waiting for the other to speak first. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Green eyes pinned him, wordlessly warning him she had no intention of breaking the stillness.

Hoping vocalizing the cold hard truth was the best way to convince his mind that Ariel Cooper was off limits he spoke hurriedly, wanting the words ridden with disillusionment off his tongue the moment they entered his mouth. "You're Brooke's baby sister and my kid brother's ex. Not exactly a good combo."

His rushed words hit her like a punch as they were so unexpected. Shaking her head, she reviewed them again to ensure she had heard him correctly. The part about Brooke was nothing new. But Sam? "Whoa, wait a minute! I was never Sam's girlfriend."

Dean gave her a disbelieving expression, opening his mouth to contradict her statement when she started talking again.

"We went on two dates. Five years ago. We're just friends, plain and simple. He moved in with my best friend for Chris-sakes. That hardly qualifies as a relationship." No wonder Dean had been acting strange. If she thought Brooke and him had dated she would have went running in the opposite direction. Some things were just plain wrong; making your way through a family was one of them. Chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip for a moment, she muttered. "Well, that explains a lot."

-----

"You fold a hell of a lot better than Dean."

"Didn't know this was a contest." Sam smiled before placing another shirt in the grey slate duffel bag. "How do you know anyway?"

"He's done my laundry before. Did a horrid job too." Tilting her head to the side and fixing her mouth in a contemplative knot she thought better of it. "I imagine it was more his way of making sure I never asked him again."

Surprised that his brother would ever volunteer to do any sort of manual labour Sam questioned Brooke, "He did your laundry?"

"Lost a bet," she said with a smile.

Understanding dawned and he chuckled before folding another shirt into the sack. "That sounds about right."

"The bet was for a month. After the first load I told him to forget it! I was wearing pink for weeks." Brooke recalled while shaking her head and sending red hair flooding over her shoulders.

Laughing, Sam glanced at his left wrist watching the dial of his metallic watch. "You figure we'll have time to eat before we head back?"

"Hungry?"

"Aren't you?" he queried.

"Starved. We'll have to get it to go. We got to be back, get changed and head into North Bay before nightfall. I want to watch him leave. I could do without the surprises," Brooke said firmly.

"We all could," Sam quipped.

"Your girlfriends are back." Brooke gestured toward the glass door.

The grin he was wearing slipped slightly. "Great."

The two francophones walked in and smiled at Sam before giving Brooke the evil eye once again. Brooke held back her snicker as they picked up their conversation as though no time had passed. Brooke whispered the general gist of their discussion to Sam as she packed her duffel bags neatly. Once they both had packed up their belongings and picked up the clothes ridden duffel bags they headed towards the door. Brooke stopped the minute she heard the blonde comment on Sam's proportions, questioning whether every part of him was so delightfully grandiloquent. Paying no attention to the chortling women, Sam opened the door for Brooke and held it there. But before heading out Brooke turned on her heels to face the blonde and brunette, shot them both an impious smile, and said something in perfect French.

The look of shock, surprise and mortification was so palatable on their faces that Sam wished to death that he had his camera out at that moment. Brook turned back to Sam gave him a wild smile before walking out the open door.

After they piled their bags into the backseat of the Mustang, Sam couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "What exactly did you say to them?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

-----

"This has to be the best ham I've ever tasted!"

"Yeah, Ray really knows what he's doing. That little shack out back is his smoke house," Dean said between bites of the flavourful ham and cheese sandwich he held in one hand as he lightly gripped the steering wheel in the other. The day's heat had finally overburdened the clouds with moisture. Drops of precipitation began hitting the windshield in a rhythmic pattern that quickly blurred his view of the gravel road. Switching the windshield wipers on he glanced up into the cobalt sky, noting that though it was raining the sun still shone brightly. The summer shower intensified its efforts until the fixed sweeping sound of the wiper blades swished in between the pattering of steady down pour.

Ariel made a sound that could have been agreement and watched the odd sight dancing over the windshield of the Impala. The feathered masses of the clouds were a brilliant white despite the rain they were lightly squeezing from their heavenly depths. There wasn't a hint of grey to be found in the skies and the condensation that was cascading in through the opened windows was warm, bathing them in rainwater without chilling their skin. Despite the rain, neither bothered to close the windows. It was far too warm to close them and the rain was hardly causing them discomfort. Switching her sandwich to her left hand so as to protect it from the drizzle, Ariel continued to eat, making appreciative sounds every once and a while. She couldn't quite identify the type of bread that held the thinly sliced smoked ham and tangy mustard and savoury swiss cheese.

When the gravel road gave way to pavement and a small sign welcomed them back into Red Bridge, Ariel looked at her watch and noted the hour before leaning her head back on the tan leather seat. "Think they'll be back yet?"

"Not if they got something to eat," Dean replied as the light shower stopped almost as unexpectedly as it began.

"That could present a problem."

"Tell me about it," Dean muttered under his breath, knowing full well Ariel was referring to their impending drive out to North Bay and not his waning self-control when it came to being left alone with her.

A wicked smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she detected the disappointment that he managed to keep from his voice. The sensation was as interesting as it was disconcerting. Her ability to feel his emotions was returning with a speed she hadn't anticipated. Silently wondering how she was going to keep her feelings straight around him, her thoughts drifted back to the herb Brooke had started carrying in her bag after Ariel became an empath. Having taken it once before she knew the aromatic plant could temporarily remove her empathic curse. But the side effects were reduced hand-eye coordination and the desire to sleep for hours on end. Hardly something that benefited her line of work. No, she would have to learn to tune Dean out the way she tuned Brooke out. Otherwise she would never really know who was feeling what and why. The problem, of course, was the time and exposure that took. It had taken two straight weeks of unrelenting contact before she had been able to shut out the basic mundane emotions that had driven her half mad.

"Ari?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking," she answered.

"I could see that." Dean shot Ariel an amused side glance before turning into the Red Bridge Motel's parking lot. "You alright?"

"Right as rain," she quipped before popping the last piece of her sandwich in her mouth. "Where do you want to do this?"

Dean choked on the mouthful he had just started chewing. "What?"

Ariel smiled widely at the look on his face, his surprise as palatable in his expression as the feeling of shock that pressed against her mind. "The rock salt. We had to divide it up. Unless you prefer riffling through a bag, measuring the amount for a round on the spot, in which case you probably won't survive your next hunt."

"Very cute!" he said before finishing his sandwich.

Ariel got out of the car laughing at the disappointed sound he made. If nothing else, she enjoyed his company. If only it would stop there. "You want some coffee or something?"

"God yes!" Dean exclaimed.

"You unload and I'll get some then," Ariel said before starting out towards the diner.

The brisk walk that usually took her past the colourful shops of the main street before cutting across the small wooded park that served as the town's square had always been pleasant. Today, despite the beauty of the day, she felt uneasy. Someone was watching her. She knew it as sure as she knew she was breathing. Stopping dead in her tracks she went to reach for the small can of pepper spray she kept in her pocket only to remember she had emptied the contents of her jacket before handing it over to Brooke for washing. Dammit.

"Lost?" a voice from behind called.

Turning to identify the source of the voice, Ariel came to face with a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. His blue eyes were trained on hers with an uncomfortable intensity. He was very close. So close his silver framed lenses weren't revealing her reflection. The clean-shaven man was slender and tall, towering over her, yet it wasn't his appearance that sent chills running down her spine. She wasn't sure what it was about this man that creeped her out down to her toes, but she knew she wanted to put as much distance between her and this man as possible. "No."

"My name's Ethan," he continued, seemingly unaware of her thoughts of fleeing.

Ariel could handle herself if she needed to, but she never willing got her back up. She hated hand-to-hand combat more than all the target practice and weapons training she had received throughout her life. Though she was capable, she was no where near as advanced as Brooke was in the art form. Silently wishing her sister was here to handle this; Ariel blanked her expression before speaking. "I'm late."

"You have lovely eyes." Ethan's eyes never left hers as he spoke. "Do you have a name?"

"I try to not to make a habit out of talking to strange men," she quipped before turning and starting back in the direction of the motel.

"I find that hard to believe," he said as he started walking behind her.

Ariel decided to fight the urge to run. Given her skill, she knew she could easily lose her tail if she wanted, but she thought running away from some weirdo who was trying to pick her up might be a slight overreaction despite the creeps he gave her. So instead she continued walking in a hastened pace.

"Oh, come on! You can't even give me your name?"

"No." The minute the words left her mouth she felt his hand dig into her arm. Shock filled her expression. "What the hell are you doing? Let me go."

"Tell me your name," he pressed.

"Let go of me." Her shock was replaced by irritation which quickly became pain as he dug his nails into her arm. Before she had a chance to knee the jackass in the groin another hand appeared over his wrist. Within seconds she was released.

"I'm pretty sure the lady told you to let go." Dean's fingers were strategically placed on the other mans wrist, applying just enough pressure to the sensitive contact points to bring the man to his knees. Without releasing the other man, Dean's attention turned back to Ariel, who was rubbing her reddened arm. "Why don't you head back?"

Ariel looked up at Dean with an unreadable expression. "Are you-"

"Sure. Yes," Dean interrupted. The moment he saw the beads of blood collecting on her forearm he swore. "You take care of that. I've got this."

Without another word, she rushed off up the path and disappeared between some trees. The other man was wriggling around, trying to free his hand without attacking Dean. Smart move, considering Dean wanted nothing more than for the guy to take a swing at him. He was as primed as he'd ever be to beat the tar out of someone. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"She's a very beautiful woman," the man said sheepishly.

"Yes she is. Hell, look all you want. But if you touch her again," he tightened his grip to drive home his point, ignoring the other man's yelps of pain. Releasing his grip, he continued in an agitated tone, "You're going to have my fist imprinted on your face."

Blue eyes watched Dean walk away somewhat before calling out, "Is that a threat?"

Stopping in his tracks, Dean turned around to face the other man. "No."

"Good," Ethan said as he stood quickly, nursing his hand.

Dean caught the other man's pained gaze and the smile that spread over his lips owed nothing to humour. "It's a guarantee."

Dean walked away in search of Ariel, not noticing for a moment the small gold ring wrapped around the other man's finger.

Ethan looked down at the snake eyed ring, rubbing it absently. He had come out to Red Bridge to see exactly who these reporter/art hunters really were. He hadn't planned on approaching them, but when the pretty raven haired girl walked by humming absently he did something he had never done in his over thirty years of life. He had had the courage to come up to her and introduce himself. Instead of paying him the most common of curiosity she had rejected him. No, it went beyond rejection. She had insulted him. And her friend had injured him. Ethan rubbed his hand, trying to get the circulation back into his fingers. He wasn't sure how, but he was going to make them both pay.

-----

"Thanks again Dean."

Dean stood silently braced against the window frame, looking down at Ariel. She had already cleaned and bandaged her wound, deciding it was better to do so in his motel room rather than risk letting Brooke in on what had just occurred. Knowing Brooke, she would have gotten into her car the minute she had heard and went out gunning for the moron who had dared touch her little sister. Given Dean's reaction, the irony was quite comical actually. "It's no-"

"Big deal?" she finished for him, laughing at his repeated attempts to down play any nice things he did on her behalf. "If Brooke asks, I brushed up against some trees at Ray's."

"She'll see right through that," he pointed out. People like them didn't just fall into trees and cut themselves. They knew how to move through woodlands without making a sound or breaking a branch.

"Got any better ideas?" she asked before packing the bottle of alcohol and bandages back into the bag sitting in front of her.

Dean smiled slowly. "Not yet. But I'm working on it."

"I'm sure you are," she said quietly as she shifted out of her chair while returning his smile.

----

Brooke popped the last of her turkey sandwich into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before opening her car door and getting out her Mustang. Sam had already grabbed his duffel bags out of the back seat and was just closing the door when she opened the backdoor opposite his. After collecting the remaining bags and shutting the door she straightened and started walking towards the motel.

Sam continued their conversation about a book they both had read as they walked, pausing and giving Brooke an inquisitive look when she stopped walking and started feeling her pockets. "Lose something?"

"My room key I left the stupid thing in there."

"Ari has hers. If she's not in there now," Sam mentioned, before changing course to head towards Brooke's room to see if Ari was there. The Impala parked in the parking lot told him Dean and Ariel had made better time than expected.

Brooke banged on the faded door hard enough to dislodge a few blue paint chips that were peeling off the wood surface. No one answered. "Diner?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged. "She could just be in my room."

"My sister alone with your brother in an empty motel room? That's comforting Sam." Her tone was only slightly teasing. If Ariel knew what was good for her, she'd be in the diner.

Sam laughed before jerking his head towards the direction of his room. "Come on, I have a lock picking set in my room."

As they rounded the corner Sam started listing his favourite books, pausing every few words when Brooke commented on whether or not she had enjoyed that book as well. Reaching the front door Sam pulled out the small metal key that was attached to a round plastic tag that had the number nine imprinted on it in gold paint. Turning the key, he pushed the door open and walked inside before his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room; he stopped dead in his tracks. Brooke followed Sam into the room only to receive the shock of her life. She blinked hard, forcing her eyes to adjust and wishing at the same time she was hallucinating. There was her baby sister, lip locked with Dean. Brooke swore loudly, grabbed her room key off the window sill, and turned on her heels, rushing out of the room to keep herself from choking the life out of Dean and then whacking her sister over the head with her boot.

The sudden flood of light accompanied by the sound of Brooke's shrieking cuss made Ariel aware that she and Dean were no longer alone. Breaking their embrace they swore bitterly in unison, icy monotones that befit the situation they just found themselves in. Ariel bolted past a dumbstruck Sam and out of the room, following her sister without thinking of the consequences. When she opened her motel room door a boot flung at her. Dodging quickly to avoid the projectile, she closed the door and spoke hurriedly. "Brooke it's not like it looks."

"Really? What the hell are you doing Ari? Inspecting his tonsils," Brooke quipped harshly.

"If I said yes would you believe me?"

"You kissed him! Are you out of your ever-loving mind?" Brooke yelled, not really wanting an answer to her question. The answer was obvious. Ariel was insane.

"Yes. I'm crazy. Why on earth would any sane woman kiss that troll of a man?" Ariel cried sarcastically.

"That boy has seen more naked women then a team of gynaecologists!" Brooke shot back. The flinch that hit Ariel told her that her words had hit the right nerve. Of all the stupid, thoughtless things she had done, this topped the charts.

Ariel straightened, ignoring her sister's jab with a roll of her eyes, and sighed audibly. "It was just a kiss, Brooke. What's the big deal?"

"He's a Winchester, Ariel."

"So? You've done a lot more with a total stranger!" she exclaimed before returning the cutting scowl that her sister was pinning her with. "It was a fully clothed kiss for Chris' sakes!"

"You just don't get it! This isn't just some guy you can screw around with and never see or think about again. He knows what we do. He does what we do!"

"So?"

Brooke snorted with disgust at having to explain the obvious. "Being able to connect with a person who not only knows but shares your secret, it's different. Knowing that there is that connection and level of understanding can hurt you. It can hurt him."

"I don't understand, what's wrong with connecting with someone who knows what this life is like?"

"You could fall in love with him Ariel!" Brooke averred loudly.

"Give me a break! I'm not that stupid," Ariel snapped. There was no way she would ever allow herself to feel anything that deeply for anyone outside her family circle. Not after watching what it did to the people she loved. Her father had nearly broken when her mother had been killed. Blake's death had turned her sister bitter; Brooke had shut herself off and carried the pain with her like a milestone around her neck. No, there was no way she would ever let that happen to her.

"It doesn't work like that Ari!"

Still she wondered why her sister was so adamant against her falling in love. "Even if I did, what's so wrong with that, Brooke?"

"He could never love you back." Brooke stated simply.

Grimacing, Ariel countered. "Because he's a hunter?"

"No, not because of what he is, but who he is. He could never love you the way you need him to. The way you deserve. You'd just be a pit stop on the way to his next hunt." Brooke could see how deeply her words cut her sister by the pain that suddenly etched her face.

Discounting the sting of her sister's words, Ariel returned the blow with words that cut Brooke just as severely. "Is that what Blake was? A pit stop?"

Rage flared in Brooke's eyes as she screamed, "That's different!"

"Why?" Ariel demanded.

"Because he wasn't a hunter. Dammit, Ari, it's not the same! He chose to fight. To hunt. He wasn't born into it like we were. He could walk way. Dean can't. There's never going to be an end for him, Ariel. He will be a hunter until the day he dies." Spearing her fingers through her hair in an effort maintain composure, her anger gave way to regret. "You walked away from this. You got away and you will again. And when you do, do you really want to be in love with a shadow?"

Ignoring the question to focus on the greater truth, Ariel exhaled the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. There was no way she could go back to any sort of normal life. Even if she stopped hunting, she was an empath. That kind of 'gift' made any career in medicine a virtual impossibility. "You're wrong, Brooke. I can't walk away. Not anymore. You know as well as I do, there's never going to be an end for me."

Brooke bit her lip at the pain she saw in her sister's eyes. Ariel's powers held her as captive to this job as Brooke's sense of duty held her. Setting her jaw and focusing on the reason she was in northern Ontario in the first place, Brooke remembered the supernatural properties of the stones set in the Ophidian ring. The power to set her sister free. And she would find that bloody ring if it was the last thing she did. "Yes there will. I promise."

-----


	9. Chapter 9 Burning Bridges

* * *

Chapter Nine – Burning Bridges

* * *

"Come on. It's time to leave." Brooke grabbed a black scarf off the bed and swung it loosely around her neck. Though the heat of the day had died down with the impending death of the sun, it was still quite tepid. The scarf wasn't needed to protect her from chill; rather it was to hide her bright red hair. She couldn't blend into the shadows of the approaching night with flame glowing strands.

Opening the door, not bothering to see if Ariel followed, she headed out and walked briskly towards Sam and Dean's motel room. By the time she rounded the corner her fists were balled and it was taking great effort not to quicken her pace. She wanted to clock Dean something awful.

There was a loud knock on the door. When Sam opened it Brooke's lithe form was standing in the doorway, cloaked in black from head to toe. She was wearing a light fitted leather jacket zipped to her neck, cotton sweats, a scarf hanging lose around her neck, and combat boots. She looked like an assassin. "Are you planning to kill someone?"

"Only your brother. But that comes later." Brooke smiled jokingly, but her tone belied her playful grin. "Move your ass."

Sam reached behind the cerulean door to grab his navy jacket, walked through, and quickly closed the door behind him. After locking it and pocketing the silver room key, Sam caught up with the angry red-head before she rounded the next corner. "You all right? You look pretty pissed."

"Me? No. I'm pleased as punch."

Sam smirked facetiously. "God help us if you're ever miserable."

Brooke's smile flashed by so fast Sam almost missed it. Almost. When they rounded the corner the parking lot came into full view. Ariel and Dean were talking in hushed tones, each sitting on separate vehicles. The minute Brooke came into view Ariel jumped off the hood of the Mustang and headed for the passenger's side door without a word.

Glaring at Dean with an intensity that spoke volumes, Brooke spoke heatedly, "Okay, let's get this the hell over with so we can get out of this hell hole, and you can get the hell away from my sister!"

"Coop!" Dean said pleadingly, easing off the car before taking a step in Brooke's direction.

"Don't _Coop_ me!" Brooke pointed her right index finger towards Dean with a look on her face that was meant to make him squirm, effectively stopping Dean in his tracks. Casting a wayward glance towards his phallus, she started speaking again. "You're lucky _it's_ still there!"

Dumbstruck, Dean watched Brooke walk towards her car. When her hand gripped the cold metal handle, she stopped and released the lever as though it had burned her. Turning on her heels she walked back hurriedly until less than a foot separated she and Dean. He braced himself, thinking she was going to take a swing at him, and was thrown completely off guard when all she did was glower at him. "Brooke?"

"Dean, if your little stunt hurts her, if you so much as make her cry, I'm going to hunt you down. And don't think there's one place on this earth you can run to where I won't find you." With that she sheered back towards her car, opened the door, and slid inside. The car roared to life and she pulled out of the parking lot and tore down the gravel road with a speed befitting an American muscle car.

"Sam, on a scale of one to ten, how badly do you think she wants me dead?" Dean asked as he ran his hand through his hair. How had he managed to get himself into this mess?

Sam shot his brother a quizzical look before asking, "Ten being?"

"Stone cold and six feet under," Dean said grievously.

"Twelve." It was an effort to maintain a poker face. Sam couldn't help chuckling at the expression on his brother's face. Dean actually looked concerned. "I'm thinking the bone grinding, ash scattering kind of dead."

"That's just great." Dean pulled his brown leather jacket closer to him, marched grudgingly around to his side of the car, and got in.

Sam hid his smile and followed suit. By the time the Impala was traveling down the gravel road, en route to North Bay, Brooke's Mustang was no where to be seen. Dean's foot hit the gas pedal with unnecessary force and the car responded with a roar of speed. Hitting a tape back into the deck and cranking up the volume to ease the silence that had fallen like night over the car, Dean focused on getting this job over. The sooner he did the sooner his life would be back to normal. Normal for him, at any rate.

Sam watched the endless stretch of trees littering the landscape on the journey into North Bay. The only thing that broke the endless tree line was the occasional hobby farm and horse border. When the gravel gave way to pavement, the scene began to morph into the makings of a city. Small shops and houses replaced the maple, as well as evergreens that seemed far more suited to the area.

About a block from Ethan Wallace's house they found Brooke's car sitting in a parking lot, empty. Dean already knew Brooke well enough to know she would be waiting in the coffee shop down the street from the house. The coffee house provided the perfect view of Ethan's driveway and allowed the stakeout to maintain a low profile. Dean parked his car next to hers and shut off the engine, but didn't make a move to get out of the car. He wasn't entirely sure whether he should get involved. It wasn't like Brooke and Ariel needed them to help search the house. They were more than capable of handling it on their own. Dean had a feeling Brooke would prefer it that way, given the circumstances. After several minutes of noticing the side glances he was receiving from his brother, Dean muttered something under his breath before turning to face Sam head on. "Don't start, Sam."

Twisting just enough to look at his brother, Sam furrowed his brow and watched the blue neon light from the parking lot sign wash over Dean's troubled expression. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to." Dean pointed to his temple. "I know how you think."

"Do you?" Sam's eyebrows raised in a quizzical manner.

Nodding fervently, Dean said, "You bet your ass."

"Alright then." Sam crossed his arms and pinned his brother with a determined gaze. If his brother knew him that well, he'd get his ass out of the car and get to work.

Dean wrenched open the car door and filed out of the car, grumbling.

Sam was quick to follow. The pair started walking up the poorly lit street toward the coffee shop on the corner. As the coffee house came into full view Sam noted the lacklustre appearance of the grey bricked building and ordinary signage that was draped in key areas to spruce it up. The building was well lit and covered in windows on three sides. Sam opened the door and stepped inside, seeing Brooke and Ariel sitting at a table that afforded an excellent view of Ethan's house. Brooke's head was turned towards the house and he knew her eyes were trained on the darkened drive way. Ariel was facing her sister, switching her attention between the front door and the direction of the Wallace house simultaneously. For the first time, Sam got a good look at what she was wearing. Like her sister, she was dressed in shades of black; a light knit cotton jacket with a leather front, and cotton pants. Her hair was pinned up in a pun that looked like it was being held up with two small sticks that, upon closer examination, he realized were a tension wrench and lock pick. These girls meant business. He walked up to the pair, smiled, and sat himself next to Ariel, who had just noticed him come in.

"Hey Sam, what took you so long?" she jested with a smile.

Looking both black clad girls up and down, Sam stated his observation. "You girls don't believe in subtlety do you?"

Brooke laughed slightly at Sam's comment without taking her eyes off the driveway. She spoke in a hushed tone to avoid anyone overhearing. "No one really get suspicious when two girls are dressed in black in the evening. We don't have 'I'm after your wallet' stamped to our heads. If you boys tried it, the waitress probably would have called the cops already."

"Got a point there." Sam smiled as the orange clad waitress approached the table with a pad and pencil at the ready to take their order.

"What can I get for you all tonight?"

Brooke answered without lifting her gaze from the window. "Coffee all around."

"Sure thing honey." The middle-aged waitress said before rushing back towards the open window that connected the diner to the kitchen.

Brooke made an irritated sound as she settled in deeper to the hard carroty vinyl of her chair and crossed her arms over the white tabletop. Everything in this place was orange and white. Even the uniform of the wait-staff. She silently willed Ethan Wallace to leave his home so they could get this over with. It was frustrating to have come this far only to have to continue waiting.

"He should be leaving any minute," Sam assured her, guessing her thoughts to be fixed on Ethan.

Ariel smiled at the faint feeling of calm that seemed to edge its way into her sister's torrid thoughts. Sam was terribly intuitive. If she didn't know any better, she would swear he was a little psychic. Smiling to herself, she shifted her view from the window back to the front door in search of Dean. He was sitting at the corner. "Why is Dean sitting over there?"

"Because he knows what's good for him," Brooke snapped.

"Grow up Brooke," Ariel said as she pushed her chair out, stood up, and walked over to the counter. "Cowering really doesn't become you."

"True, but neither would Brooke's heel print," Dean quipped with a grin.

"Good point." Ariel started to smile and sit next to the hazel eyed man beside her, but the moment she did Brooke's words in the motel flung into memory. _You'd just be a pit stop on the way to his next hunt. _Whether she cared to admit it or not, Dean wasn't really capable of having a relationship, and she wasn't the one night stand type. What had she been thinking? The answer came back to her in a rush. She hadn't. Shaking her head somewhat she continued hastily, "It's all for the best, I imagine. Probably better to end it know."

"Ari, if things were -"

"Different? Oh please spare me the psycho babble Dean. Things wouldn't be any better if we weren't hunters. We would have met, you'd have given me some blatantly obvious line that I would overlook because you're so damned sexy, and, despite you using some pathetic excuse for a cover story, we'd wind up screwing the night away until you either came up with some lame ass excuse for why you had to get up early in the morning or I'd just wake up alone in my apartment. I'd know you weren't going to call me back, but I'd still carry my phone around with me everywhere just in case, until several months had passed and one very drunken night with my friends I'd start to tell them about this amazing one night stand that I'll never seen again." Pausing to take a breath she continued in the same matter-of-fact tone she had been regaling him with. "I think that about covers it. Did I miss anything?"

Dean's stunned expression irritated her more than it should have. It was the feeling that clouded her senses when she spoke. Something almost like pain. Whatever it was, it echoed the feeling she was carrying with her. Turning on her heels in a rush, she hurried back to her seat and forced herself to watch the shadowy driveway and not the man who was at this very minute watching her with a look that matched her own.

Brooke was about to deliver another cutting remark when the dark driveway she was watching lit up. A light above the garage came on and the door lifted, revealing two white, bright halogen headlamps that quickly pulled out of the drive way, turned on to the main street, and headed up the end of the block, disappearing into the darkness as their rounded the corner. "It's game time boys and girls."

-----

"What kind of freak has six locks and no alarm?" Ariel kvetched as she laboured over the final silver toned lock that was taking her twice as long as it should have. The lock had been designed to prevent lock picking. However, that didn't prevent her from lifting the last pin into place and forcing the door open with Brooke's assisted weight. The leaden door squeaked open slowly. Brooke beamed as she slipped inside after Ariel. "Nice job there, sis."

Sam and Dean were quick to pass through the opened door as Dean cast a wary look over his shoulder to make sure no one had observed their entry. Once inside, Dean pushed his weight into the heavy cast iron door until it squealed shut. The group, armed with flashlights, quickly searched the grand foyer for any signs of an alarm system. Sam had pulled the client lists of all the local alarm companies; Ethan Wallace wasn't on any of them, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Once they were all confident there was no fear of tripping any motion sensors Brooke set her watch for an hour before Ethan was set to return. She wanted to make sure they were back in Red Bridge before he returned home. Looking around the room, she began thinking of the best way to go about searching for the object. The room was lined in a whitish grey veined marble that matched the white panelling that hugged the walls and echoed the detailing in the ceiling. The room itself was beautiful and as ornately statuesque as the ornamented cast iron bars that lined every visible window. Since there was no upstairs floor to work with she figured the best place to start would be to look for some sort of safe or locked box where someone was likely to store a twenty-four carat heirloom. "Best bets the office, den or bedroom."

Sam nodded and started walking towards the room off to his right. This room, unlike the foyer, was decorated in dark wood panels and sported a large mahogany desk with various bookshelves and paintings staggering each other. "Den's the closest. Let's start there."

Brooke and Dean followed Sam into the room, Dean taking the left side, Sam the right, and Brooke heading straight down the center to the large oil canvas resting above the fireplace that sat behind the desk. After pocketing her flashlight, she knelt long enough to unsheathe the knife strapped to her ankle and used the blade to separate the heavy gold leafed frame from its imprint in the wall. Hooking the knife through the loop of her sweats, she used both hands to remove the frame from the wall. Staggering under its weight slightly, she looked at the wall. There was no safe or hidden insert in its stead. Cursing silently, she replaced the frame, gripped the flashlight in her teeth, and started rifling through the desk drawers, using her knife to jimmy open the top locked drawer. Nothing but papers and a silver letter opener.

Sam didn't have anymore luck with the shelves and drawers he went through. If nothing else, Ethan was a tidy man. There wasn't a piece of paper out of place or a hint of dust on a single surface. After he finished searching his side of the room his gaze drifted up to Ariel's still form. She hadn't left the antechamber. His motionlessness caught Brooke's attention and she too stared at Ariel's stillness.

Brooke abandoned the rummaged desk and walked back into the foyer to stand next to her Ariel. Watching her sister's expression carefully, she spoke in French to keep from letting the Winchester's know about Ariel's empathic 'gift'. "Where is it?"

"I'm empathic Brooke. Not a bloody fortune teller!" Ariel shot backing in French, mindful of Dean's ignorance towards her abilities, though she knew she would have spoken the language even if he were not present. She knew Brooke would not respond kindly to the knowledge that Sam was in on her little secret.

"Don't get smart with me!" Brooke clipped, then, remembering that it had only been that previous morning her sister's abilities had been overwhelmed, her voice filled with concern. "Are you sure you are up to this?"

Feeling Sam and Dean's curiosity about the conversation she was having with Brooke, Ariel switched back to English and said, "It's not like I have a choice."

Casting a curious look at the sisters, Dean followed Sam into the room opposite the den. By the looks of it, the room served as a library; there were bookcases brimming with various novels, and text books all centered on art and history. "I thought this guy worked at a bank?"

"He does," Sam answered. He too had noted the subject matter of the books. No wonder the man hadn't really bought the art collector story Brooke and he had tried to feed him. Someone this engrossed in the art world would hardly be enticed by the promise of big city curator that wanted to purchase a priceless object. Ethan Wallace most likely knew the value of the Ophidian ring.

As before, each brother took a different side of the room and methodically searched every crevice. Brooke took the areas they skirted in the center of the room. Ariel remained in the grand room, sensing something she couldn't quite pin down. Closing her eyes, she focused her mind, gladly tuning out Brooke's burning anger towards Dean, Sam's genuine concern, and Dean's frustration, which at the moment was directed not only towards herself and Brooke, but to the situation. Frustration in different forms was something all four of them were feeling at the moment, frustration and apprehension. Narrowing her thoughts, she grasped the small, intricate pendant that was hanging from her neck. The silver medallion her father had given her allowed her to concentrate her abilities and direct them. The side effect, of course, was that is also amplified her abilities, something that even now was causing her problems. She knew from experience that she could only wear it for a few hours before the strain on her mind forced her to snap. She needed to get this over with as soon as possible.

The entire house wafted evil, which was not unexpected given that the ring was being housed here. Evil had a tendency to collect and build when allowed to reside in a specific area. Following Dean, Brooke, and Sam as they moved through each room of the house knavishly, she continued to monitor the waves of emotion that resonated through the walls. She didn't see the network of halls that lead to different areas of the house, or the sculptures and artwork that was carefully placed and displayed elaborately. She remained focused until she walked into an elongated hallway that had several doors connecting to it. Ariel could feel something she couldn't name the moment she walked into the hallway. She stopped dead. Feelings of anger, outrage, and malevolence hit her like a tank. Brooke's hand on her elbow made her focus on the task at hand. She was just picking up psychic echoes, she convinced herself.

Coming to a gold filigree door handle, Sam opened it and walked into a room that was twice as big as any of the others. The colour and style was identical to the grand entrance. Marble and flamboyant panels met with an equally elaborate ceiling. At first he wasn't sure what to make of the room's purpose; there were sculptures, books, desks, an aquarium, and dressers inside, but once his gaze fell upon a four post canopy bed partially hidden behind a wall of honey velvet, he knew instantly the room's function. "Found the bedroom guys."

Brooke and Dean were quick to follow. Ariel, however, stood looking back down the hallway. If she hadn't been sure they were alone in the house, she would have sworn someone else was there. A very angry someone.

Among the statutes was a beautiful eagle sitting atop a stunning desk. The eagle was hovering over an of iron sea with a fish being dragged from the watery depths in the eagle's claw. The detailing was extricate, much like everything else in the house. After searching a few of the desk's drawers, Brooke's attention quickly went to the suit of armour that was standing to her left. She went to examine its authenticity and couldn't prevent herself from venting a little of her frustration on its object. While Dean was sifting through some dresser drawers near the armour, she pried at the mallet clenched in the knight's hand.

The hard metal of the mallet connected roughly against Dean's scalp. The pain that shot through his head reminded him how foolhardy he had been in his dealings with Ariel. Brooke was going to try and kill him. Rubbing his head and narrowing his eyes, he turned to face the woman who was gunning to give him a head injury. "Ow! What the hell did you do that for?"

"Oh, I'm sorry did that hit you?" Brooke asked chidingly.

"You did that on purpose!" he said through clenched teeth.

Brooke met and matched the angered look Dean was giving her. "You bet your ass I did. Maybe next time when I tell you to stay the hell away from my sister you will."

"Would the two of you grow up! We're working! Remember?" Sam called, raising his voice just enough to be heard, but not loudly enough to attract outside attention.

"Don't tell me. Tell her!" Dean exclaimed.

Ariel walked into the room quickly, rubbing the back of her head slightly. When she saw the way Dean and Brooke were looking at each other she knew where her sudden headache had come from. Silently cursing the pendant around her neck she headed past her sister, who was looking guiltily, at her boots and stalked to the back of the room.

Watching the heated anger in Brooke's movements, Sam pulled his brother aside and said quietly, "Why don't you stand on the look out, Dean. I don't think we'll get much work done if you don't."

Dean muttered something about Brooke trying to kill him before nodding curtly and starting to head back the way he had came. "Good idea there, Sammy."

"It's Sam!" he called after his brother. Rolling his eyes and turning to face Brooke, Sam continued. "You need to calm down Brooke."

"Sam-"

"You can kill him later!" Sam interrupted before looking at the watch strapped to his left wrist. It had already been an hour and a half since they had broken in. "We don't have a lot of time to search this place."

"You're right." Brooke shifted slightly under his gaze. "But when this is over…"

"I'll be an only child?" Sam teased.

-----

Dean had started walking down the hallway when he had passed the door he was about to search when Sam had called him. This time he heard the consistent dripping that was coming from inside. He opened the door slowly and walked in, clicking on his flashlight and casting the beam into the direction of sound. There in the middle of the room was a large water clock. The gold clepsydra was bowl-shaped. But it wasn't the clock itself that caught Dean's attention. It was the symbol imbedded into the metal. A very uniquely shaped cobra was etched in the clock. Moving the light beam around the room slowly, he saw that the room was filled with artwork. Statutes and paintings all with the same symbol or marking of the snake goddess Meretseger. Dean knew instantly that Ethan was already wearing the ring. No sane person starts a shrine to a goddess so ancient that even her name had all but faded into nonexistent. Cursing violently, knowing that the four of them had to get the hell out of this house now, Dean turned on his heels to head back to down the corridor. He managed to take two steps before something cold and hard struck him from behind. Feeling nothing but the splitting pain and the darkness that gripped him the moment the object hit him; Dean hit the floor so hard that a small plaque that was hanging on the nearby wall fell to the ground.

-----

Ariel felt a stab of pain that quickly disappeared. Unable to shake the feeling that she had had since walking into the house, she decided the pain was most likely the cause of her straining to identify the unease that was following her mind. Standing near the front door of the bedroom, she closed her eyes and gripped the pendant around her neck. The world fell away from her consciousness and she was bombarded by the outrage and malevolence that she had started sensing a few moments before. She tried to focus her mind on the pain she had just felt, unsure if it was her own. When her thoughts centered on Dean she released the pendant as though it had burned her. Taking a deep breath and letting herself rest for a moment, she held the pendant once again and focused on Dean. When she felt nothing she knew her emotions were playing tricks on her. Dean was probably back at the coffee shop, cell phone at the ready to warn them if anyone was approaching the house. At that distance she couldn't possibly sense anything from him. Ariel released the medallion once again and rubbed her temple. It was far too soon for her to be using the pendant. Her mind hadn't fully recovered from the fiasco at the funeral home. She had only just started to regain her empathic abilities when they had started out to North Bay. No, despite the feeling in her gut, she knew her mind was playing tricks on her. But the sudden rush of rage she had felt before the stab of pain was no trick. Neither was the smell that was choking her throat. Ariel couldn't help but exhale the tainted air that was filling her nostrils. "Do you smell that?"

"Somebody on the block must be barbecuing," Brooke said flippantly as she raked through the file drawer.

"That's awfully strong for a barbecue," Sam said as he stood up slowly and walked over to the door leading to the hallway. Grey smoke was barrelling in through the crack under the doorway. "I think we have a problem."

Ariel didn't even need to turn around to know the problem. Sam's alarm and concern were enough in themselves. "Let's get out of here."

Brooke looked towards Sam, who's feet where surrounded by a slowly growing cloud of smoke. "Holy shit." They were in a back room with a solid stone wall to the rear and a long walk out to the only other exit she knew of. "Doesn't this building have a fire exit?"

"I didn't see one," Ariel admitted, wishing she had taken extra care at mapping out her surroundings when they had entered the building.

"That's just great. How the hell do we get out?" Brooke sniped, remembering that every window she had seen was barred.

Sam looked at the rising smoke and turned back to face the sisters. "We go back the way we came."

"Into the fire? That's bloody brilliant!" Brooke was not hiding her panic. She hated fire at a very personal level. A flood of reminiscences came back to her like a shot. The memory of a loved one she had lost in a large blaze.

"Got a better idea?" Sam clipped back at her.

Brooke walked to Sam and quickly removed his navy jacket and outer cerulean striped shirt. Her motions were so rapid that he didn't have time to object or even move, by the time he realized what she was doing she had his jacket and shirt off and she was ripping the shirt into strips with the aid of a small pocket knife.

Ariel took the first strip and started soaking the cloth in the aquarium opposite the desk. She threw the wet cloth to Sam as Brooke handed her the next strip. She repeated the process with the remaining strips of cloth and followed them with their jackets.

By the time the entire process was complete the smoke had risen to the ceilings in thick darkening clouds just above Sam's tall frame. Ariel already knew they were in serious trouble by the rate the smoke climbed the walls. With each passing second their chances of making it to the front entrance were dwindling away.

Sam tried using his cell phone to call for help. Dean should have left the house lot by now. If Sam could reach Dean he might to able to direct them to another way out. The heat coming from the door warned the fire was drawing closer. Sam's cell phone beeped and flashed a no signal sign. "Of course!" he hissed in disgust at the useless device in his hand. At that moment he heard a large crack followed by a deep shake. The roof was starting to buckle. "We have to leave. Now!"

Ariel dumped out the floral vase sitting on a dresser and used it to scoop water out of the draining aquarium. She poured the first cup over her hair, making sure it was fairly damp. Brooke and Sam followed suit.

"The entrance is down the hall to the right, two lefts, and another right before we hit the grand room." Brooke tightened the damp black scarf around her hair and looked at the other two, making sure they each heard her instructions. "We stick together. I don't think we'll have any visibility."

Ariel felt Sam's anxiety rip through her like a knife. She followed his gaze to the ceiling. The scoring of fire was starting to burn its way through the cap. It wouldn't be long before the inferno rived through the walls and ceilings.

Brooke looked at the two, ignoring the flames they were watching. She headed for the door. "How long do you figure we have?"

"Five minutes. Ten max." Sam followed Brooke and turned back to see why Ariel wasn't heading towards the door. She was staring at the impending flames, frozen like a statute. Much like he had been when Jess had burst into flames on their ceiling. There was something about the flames that forced an almost primal trepidation into his blood stream. Ariel was so transfixed by the light she didn't feel Sam grab her arm. "Stay with me, okay?"

"Okay." Ariel nodded and forced herself to stop feeling the panic and anger flowing freely through Sam and Brooke. It made her own fear that much harder to bear. "Lead the way."

Brooke tied the wet cloth around her mouth and glanced back, making sure Sam and Ariel were ready. She used the remaining strip of Sam's shirt to turn the gold door knob. Despite the protection from the cloth, her hand burned from the high temperature held in the metal. Ignoring the pain, she forced the door open and stepped into the hallway. The wall paper and art decorating the corridor were all ablaze. The heat was so intense she thought she might pass out from it. Despite the flames, she moved swiftly through the hall, realizing that her once soaking hair and mouth cloth were hastily drying. Despite the glow from the flames, there was no illumination. The smoke was so thick she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her. They had to get out. Fast.

Moving at a hurried gait, she reached a split in the path and headed to the left until she reached the next junction and took that left as well. Pausing before the next divergence, she looked back to make sure Ariel and Sam were with her. See could barely make out their figures, but when she felt Ariel's hand push at her shoulder she knew they had to keep going. She quickly turned right down the hall and tried to run out to the grand room.

Ariel felt Sam pull at her as he moved right down the hall. He was making sure she knew the way. She was so focused on following the conduit she hadn't noticed that pieces of the ceiling were starting to come down in sporadic bursts. Dodging a falling light fixture, she turned down the hall and hastened after Sam's quickly disappearing form.

-----

Lack of oxygen brought Dean awake in a coughing tizzy. The room was filled with smoke and the smouldering heat from a fire that had surrounded one of the walls. Rubbing the bump on the back of his head, he rose to his feet as quickly as his head injury would allow and bolted for the door. He couldn't remember how he had been knocked unconscious, but he knew he needed to move his ass if he was ever going to find out. Dean firmly gripped the metal door knob in his right hand and bit back a howl of pain as the heated metal burned his flesh. Pulling his grey t-shirt above his mouth to lessen his intake of the deadly smoke, he headed into the darkened hallway and tried to get his bearings. Before he had a chance to choose a direction, the light fixture above him came crashing down hard, along with part of the roof, knocking him to the floor and partially submerging him in the wreckage. He held his head lightly but didn't bother to see if there was blood; he could feel the cut on the back of his scalp as deeply as the searing pain coming from his leg. He was trapped.


	10. Chapter 10 Fired Farewells

* * *

Chapter Ten – **Fired Farewells**

* * *

Brooke had just cleared the hallway and was making her way towards the door when Sam rounded the corner. He looked back making sure Ariel was still behind him. Once he saw her svelte form moving towards him through the billowing clouds of smoke that were chocking the life from him, he too ventured into the grand foyer. The once white walls were set ablaze in various shades of luminance, so intense that the colour that had started as a white-hot blue transformed into a livid white that consumed the panelling with such a speed that the burning panels where singeing and flaking into sheets of char. The ceiling blackened with soot in the areas that weren't already being devoured by the flames. Areas of the ceiling were peeling away, clumps of flaming debris littering the scared marble tiles when they fell.

Ariel was about to exit the hallway when she stopped dead in her tracks, feelings of pain and panic overwhelming her. The sensations were faint enough to tell her Brooke and Sam were not the source. She turned around quickly realizing she was sensing someone else. Someone else was still deep inside the burning building. And judging by the panic she was sensing, they needed help. The thickening air kept her from trying to yell at Sam to let him know she was going back in. Instead, she started racing back down the singeing hall she had just abandoned, following the feelings of pain and distress. Ariel made it a few feet before the orotund sounds of cracking riddled her eardrum loudly. The cracking was followed by a crash so strident her ears burned from the agitation rather than heat. The pulsation that rumbled through the houses foundation told her what had happened. The entrance hall to the grand room, to the way out, had just caved in. She turned to see the place where she had paused just moments ago, but it was now buried under a smouldering pile of debris. Ariel couldn't even see over the heap it had completely filled the gap.

"Oh my God!" Her words inaudible, as she spoke. She was trapped.

-----

Brooke pulled the heavy cast iron door with all her strength, but the lack of oxygen had already started to take its toll on her body. She could barely force the door open a crack. Just enough to release some of the smoke filling her lungs before it slammed shut. Sam arms came around her and he placed his hands astride hers. Together, in a hurried jerk, they yanked the door wide open. Clearing the threshold and running several steps before the fresh air hit Brooke like a brick wall, bringing her to knees the moment she was free of the smoke. Coughing and gasping for air, she looked at Sam who had followed suit and has lying on the ground next to her coughing. They were covered in soot from head to toe, their eyes were the only appendage on their grimy bodies that was free of black carbon. Brooke pulled the filth covered cloth away from her mouth as the newly arriving firemen came towards the pair, offering assistance. They had managed to place an oxygen mask on her and partially strap her into a stretcher before she heard the sounds of a large crash inside the building she had just escaped from. That's when her mind started working again despite the smoke's drugging effect on her. That's when she noticed something was missing. Someone was missing. Looking around, Brooke's blue eyes searched the gathering crowd desperately for her sister's small form. Ariel was nowhere in site! The fog in Brooke's mind continued repeating her unspoken fear, where was Ariel? Hoping beyond hope that a paramedic had moved her to the white ambulance, which had appeared beyond the collecting smoke. Brooke starting undoing the black buckles that held the red safety straps in place.

Sam was still watching the crowds for the raven-haired woman who moment's prior had been within his grasp. He didn't see Ariel anywhere. She had been right behind him. The large cast iron door was open, yet he hadn't seen her come through it. Horror started creeping through his veins. She hadn't come through it. Ariel was still inside. He pulled off his oxygen mask and pushed off the EMTs working on him, and he started for the door. Ariel had been right behind him. Why did he let go of her arm? He had to get back inside. She had to be just inside the grand room.

When the firemen saw Sam heading for the door, three of them blocked his path. They started to tell him the building was unsafe and that it was about to collapse. When they heard him say someone was still in there, a wave of panicked energy raced through the group. A few of the yellow clad firefighters started to head towards the door, wearing thick helmets and oxygen tanks.

Brooke was watching the scene in transfixed horror. Sam heading for the door, being stopped by a group of firemen, more firefighters heading towards the door, and then her worst nightmare became her reality. The front of the building began to cave in. The shrieking sound of metal grinding against the pressure that was too much to be borne filled the air. In a form of slow motion, only relative to the heart that had stopped beating in her chest, Brook watched as the iron door cracked and split, flattening beneath the pressure of the collapse. The deafening scream she heard pierced her ears, and ached her head. It wasn't until she felt the soreness in her throat that she realized she was the source of the earth-curdling shriek.

"Ariel!" she mouthed the words, her voice gone with all hope of saving her sister. Brooke had to do something. Without realizing it, she ripped the air mask from her face, along with the blood pressure cuff chaining her to the stretcher, and bolted for the pile of smouldering rubble. The paramedics that tired to stop her were greeted with her balled up fist, biffing anyone who dared to stand between her and her sister. She broke free from their gasps, and continued towards the wreckage, only to be grabbed by a fireman in full gear. She screamed at him, ignoring his comments, through sheer determination she shifted in his arms and with all her might and kneed him in the groin. He hit the pavement, reeling in pain. She didn't notice, though. All she could think about was getting to her sister.

Sam's arms came around from behind her like an iron gate, holding her motionless. She screamed. Fought. Struggled. It was no use. He had picked the perfect place to grab her, a place where she couldn't attack any part of his body. "Let me go!"

Sam's voice was a firm as his grasp. "No."

"Let me go or I'll kill you I swear to god!" Brooke's eyes were as wild as her tone.

"You'll kill yourself, Brooke. Open your eyes! You can't claw through burning rubble." Though he was sure if there was a way Brooke would have found it. Sam had a good nine inches and at least forty pounds on Brooke, yet; it was taking all of his strength to keep her from charging into the smouldering inferno.

A distant part of her mind knew Sam was right, that there was no way to reach Ariel. She couldn't hold back the tears that swept pass her senses, as the hot liquid scolded her eyes as deeply as the burn that was etched into her palm. After another series of small cave-ins, Brooke stopped fighting and gave in to the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. The sob that retched through her buckled her knees and ripped at her heart. She would have fallen had it not been for Sam's arms that were still firmly clasped around her. For the first time in Brooke's life, she wanted to die. Yet in her heart she knew that even that wouldn't end the agony she felt.

Sam held Brooke close to his chest, feeling her ragged breathing as she wept with fervour; so intense that her body quaked with each retching howl. He felt the burning in his eyes and knew the tears welling in them had nothing to do with the smoke. He just lost his best friend. And there was nothing he could do about it, but stand there and watch the flames that engulfed the last remains of the building.

-----

Ariel continued to follow the pain she was feeling. She knew there was no way out of the building, but if she were going to die, she would do it comforting the injured soul who would share in her fate. The smoke was so thick it burned at her eyes, drying her tears before they had a chance to escape her lids. The heat was so intense that her flesh felt as though it was burning off her bones. She could barely see her own hand in front of her face through all of the smoke, the only navigation she had was the pain she was sensing. Rounding yet another corner, Ariel dodged a piece of the deteriorating ceiling and tripped on some debris. The pain increased, and she felt panic race through her blood. It was then that she realized whom she was sensing. "Dean?"

That was it. It was all over. Dean could hear his name. The angels were calling him. He had expected bright light, harps, hell even an old guy in robes. Yet all he got was his name repeated over and over. He couldn't help but feel a little cheated. The irony of dying in a fire hit him and he would have chuckled if he had any oxygen left in his lungs.

"Dean?"

There it was again. Calling his name. The voice was getting closer. He must be slipping away. The feel of a hand on his head was unexpected. But then again he had never died before.

"Dean, are you alright?"

The words were as unexpected as the touch had been. He opened his eyes and was barely able to make out the form hovering over him. "Ariel?"

"Can you get up?"

"No. My leg-" Dean tried to gesture to his trapped leg, but realized there was no way she could see it in the darkness of looming smoke. "I'm pinned."

"Dammit Dean, keep your mouth covered!" Ariel pulled at Dean's t-shirt knowing it would offer little, if any protection, from the carbon monoxide that they were breathing in. But in the very least, it would slow the deadly amounts of the gas he was inhaling. Following her hands down his thighs, she found the object pinning him beneath. A part of the ceiling had landed on his leg and it felt like a piece of steel had acted like a nail, hooking him in place. "Bloody hell."

"That bad, huh?" Dean coughed between each word. The smoke filling his lungs was so coarse he felt like he was breathing in sand.

"You really nailed it." Ariel tried to keep her voice light. There was no need to worry Dean with the knowledge that even if she freed him from his trap; they were still going to die in here.

Noticing that Ariel was here alone he asked, "Where's Sam? Brooke?"

"Outside." She didn't bother to explain. Speaking was taking more effort than the expressions were worth. The smoke had thickened to the point where the need for oxygen was so severe her lungs ached.

"Why aren't you with them?" Dean asked, between gasping for oxygen and coughing out the tainted air that entered his lungs. Silence was his only answer. She was moving small parts of the debris off his legs; each removed piece relieved some of the pressure that he felt. "Ari, how the hell did you find me?"

"It's a long story," Ariel huffed. She could barely breathe, and he wanted to have a lengthy conversation?

"Shorten it."

She didn't respond, her focus was fixated solely on freeing his leg.

"How?" Dean's tone seemed harsh, but he knew it was the smoke in his lungs making him hoarse.

Considering most likely that they were going to die in here together, it wouldn't kill her to be honest with him. "I felt your pain," she said simply.

"What?" The confusion making its way into his voice, despite the lack of air burdening Dean's tone.

"This really going to hurt."

Ariel's words were followed by severe pain, as she wrapped her hands around the stake wedged into his leg and pulled with a strength he hadn't known she possessed, tearing the spike that had clamped him in place from his sensitive flesh. The anguish was so intense that he couldn't move. The pain shot up his body in streaks of a very different type of fire, the agony ripping his very breath from his deflating lungs.

Ariel struggled to keep the stake that had pinned Dean in place up high enough for him to be free of the piercing metal, but she knew she couldn't hold it long. Already it was starting to slip from her grasp, the weight of the metal combining with the moisture collecting in her palms. "Move your ass, Dean!"

Using all of his resolve Dean shifted quickly just before the spike hit the floor hard. The pain that speared through him nearly brought Ariel to her knees. Ripping off the pendant she wore she centered herself and pushed his feelings out of her mind, as deeply as she shoved the medallion into her pocket. She could only deal with her own panic; she couldn't shoulder his pain too. Straining to speak she asked, "Can you stand?"

"Do I have a choice?" It wasn't really a question. Dean couldn't just lie there and wait for the flames to claim him just because he was in pain. He had been through worse. Using every single bit of Winchester will in his body, he rolled onto his knees and started to stand. "Which way?"

Ariel reached out to steady him as he came to his feet, favouring his right side. The despondency in her tone spoke louder than her words ever could. "The way we came in is blocked off."

"I don't think this building has a fire exit." Every window he had seen in this place was barred in iron. Dean knew instantly that they were screwed six ways to Sunday. Dammit.

"I know. There's no way out," she spoke the words so softly, they barely carried over the crackling sounds of the flame engulfing the hall.

Dean wasn't going to die today. Not like this. He set his jaw hard. "We'll make our own." Dean went to take a step forward and was rewarded with a stab of pain.

"You have a plan?" Ariel asked, as she slid her arm around his waist and moved his right arm over her shoulder, using herself to brace him.

"I'm working on it."

-----

Trying desperately to expel the leaden air filling his lungs, Dean hobbled down the flaming corridor with Ariel's assistance. He wasn't looking for an exit. He knew there wasn't one in existence. He was looking for something else. Fresh air. He could feel his mind shutting down with every breath. The lack of oxygen stealing away what little strength he had left. There was no longer any light left to show the way, only years of instinct to guide him. Dean focused his diminishing brainpower on finding a way out. He'd be damned if he was going to let a little fire bring him down.

Ariel was no longer thinking. It took too much air to use her mind. She simply moved with Dean and tried to slow her breaths. She didn't know where they were going, but at that point, it didn't really matter. She was slowly accepting that she was going to die in this place. She fought the guilt and anger that swept through her. She had always thought this job would get her killed. But she had assumed the deed would be quick and from some supernatural creature's infliction. She felt Dean change course and quickly matched his direction. She didn't see the door open, but she felt the slight change in temperature as she stepped inside, the sulphurous heat had become scorching hot.

Dean fumbled towards the wall in search of his goal. He had noticed this room when he had walked by earlier. It was different from the others, no wood panelling, chair rails, or wallpaper. The room was obviously part of an addition to the houses structure. Walking into the mahogany desk that was the room's focal point, Dean pushed the desk accidentally with his weight. The damn thing was on castors. Trying to find the wall, he stumbled onward until his hand met with the oddly cool drywall lining the room. The air was far too thick to speak. Breathing itself was nonexistent. Dean began praying fervently that the new addition's building material was as inferior as he needed them to be. Knocking the wall until he heard the sound he was seeking, he headed back to the desk, the whole time never removing his arm from around Ariel. He knew if he let go of her, he wouldn't find her again in the sweltering darkness. Once his hands came in contact with the desk he guided the hand Ariel had around his waist to the desk. She didn't need any explanation. She quickly followed his lead and worked with him to manoeuvre the desk.

Ariel felt Dean's finger lightly tap the top of her hand. Three taps. Two. One. In complete accord, they shoved the desk with all their might. The scorching drywall cracked and caved at the blow, and the sound of the crash was made almost inaudible by the crackling of the advancing fire. The lack of adequate insulation and proper joyces that had caused the wall to buckle at the blow was just the shoty workmanship Dean had been hoping for. The cool breeze that flooded over them was sweeter then anything either had ever experienced. Ariel felt Dean push her towards the newly formed exit only to have her grip his hand with the same strength he was using on her. She wasn't leaving without him. Limping and fighting through the pain Dean hobbled to the exit and before Ariel could so much as gesture for him to go through, he hoisted her into his arms and flatly tossed Ariel through the hole. He heard her grumbling on the other side of the wall, something about being a pushy son of a gun, but he was in too much pain to reply with his usual smart-ass remarks. He threw his good leg over the rim and let himself fall onto the other side, landing hard on the concrete that surrounded the building. Coughing, and in great pain, Dean didn't want to move. It was only Ariel's persistent hands and words that got him back to his feet. He fought through the pain and leaned heavily on Ariel as they moved away from the inferno. Once they were several feet away the pair collapsed, thoroughly exhausted, on a nearby patch of grass. The ordeal had taken every ounce of strength they had. They didn't even bother to speak; it took all their remaining gusto to centre in on the intake of fresh air. Ariel kept her eyes locked with Dean's, they where bloodshot. In the back of her mind, she knew they needed medical attention, badly. She knew she was suffering from asphyxiation. She could hear it and feel it in her breathing. Judging by Dean's coughing and hoarse breaths, he was worst then she was. They needed help, but she could do no more than lay there on the ground labouring for air. Ariel didn't hear the sound of the building completely crashing down in a cloud of smoke, as debris filled the night sky and blanketed the stars. Her fight had reached its end and she, like Dean, had given into the darkness that fought so hard to claim her.

-----

Brooke was inconsolable. Her body was cold; she couldn't even feel Sam's hand stroking the back of her hair. All she felt was lost and pain so deep it stole her breath and choked her until she was certain her heart would stop beating. She didn't even feel her tears cascading in a seemingly never ending stream, smudging her carbon blackened checks before falling on to Sam's soot covered t-shirt. The paramedics had been successful in getting the pair into an ambulance after the building came crashing down, however they couldn't get the two to wear oxygen masks or examine them because Sam refused to release Brooke from his grasp. And whether she was aware of it or not she was clinging just as tightly to him. By the time they had reached the hospital Brooke's sobbing had stolen every ounce of strength that she had possessed. She was lying limp in Sam's arms breathing shallow tattered breaths as she went cataleptic. Sam released Brooke to allow the paramedics and doctors assist her before trying to leave the hospital that he had been rushed into. He needed to find Dean and that knowledge motivated him enough to vacate the stretcher he was placed on. A doctor and a few nurses buzzed around him speaking words he couldn't quite make out. His mind was so foggy and his vision was blurring to the point where he honestly didn't know where he was going. When he could see nothing beyond the darkness that was clouding his oculus, he felt his body collapse.

-----

Sam awoke to the smell of ammonium hydroxide and stale coffee that permeated every hospital he had ever been in. Opening his eyes slowly, trying to blink away the hideous green painted walls that was assaulting his senses. Sam tried to sit up, but his task was made difficult, because of the mask that was strapped around his mouth, delivering a steady flow of oxygen. The only thing breaking the horrid mint colour walls was the white curtain that surrounded his bed on both sides. Despite the lack of injury to his head, Sam felt like his brain had been placed in a vacuum bag, the pressure making his hazel eyes water slightly, blurring the cuts and scraps he was tenderly examining on his forearms. Aside from a few that had required stitches, there was little to be concerned with. The voice of a very angry woman in the adjacent bed made him remember why he was there. The fire. Before the memories completely engrossed him, the woman started yelling again. "You listen to me you lab coat demon! I'm not answering one damned question until you tell me where the hell my sister is!"

"Miss please, I already told you, I don't know. I'm only a doctor. My concern is your care. But I can have someone try to get you an answer."

"You do that. Once you've got it, you can drill, poke and prod away. Until then you can shove that PhD up your ass and leave me the hell alone."

It was the woman's choice of words rather than her voice that Sam recognized. "Brooke?"

"Sam?"

The doctor who had been trying to reason with the redhead quickly opened the curtain and gave Sam a pleading look. "You're awake too? Wonderful. Sir, would you mind telling your friend to calm down."

"What makes you think she would listen to me?" Sam asked. He turned to look at Brooke, whose face had turned cherry red from the flames. She locked her gaze on Sam, blue eyes burning with something stronger than just rage. Pain was etched into her oculus, clouding the liveliness that usually made the crystal specks of indigo sparkle within. "Are you okay?"

Brooke forced a smile she didn't feel, as she asked him sarcastically, "Are you?"

Sam gave Brooke an understanding nod as the middle-aged doctor walked over and started examining him, as Sam and Brooke continued to exchange words. "How long was I out for?"

Ignoring her splitting headache Brooke answered with an effort to keep the hoarseness from her throat. She felt like her oesophagus had been burnt. "Your guess is as good as mine. I woke up, pressed the red button and Dr. Know-nothing showed up."

"I'm standing right here, you know." The doctor snapped, as he pushed his black-framed glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Do I look like I give a crap about your feelings?" Brooke shot back. Her grief had turned itself into a burning rage that made her usual bad temper ten times worse. The sooner the doctor let her go, the sooner she could find out what happened back at that house, and find out exactly what had happened to her sister. Brooke wouldn't accept Ariel's death without seeing her body first hand. No matter what logical part of her brain screamed that her sister had been trapped inside a burning building that had crashed to the ground. There was no chance she had survived. Biting back a wave of tears, she pulled at the mask that was strapped to her face.

"You may not care about my feelings, but you should care about your health. You have to keep that on, Miss," the doctor warned, as he removed the stethoscope he had pressed against Sam's chest and turned to face Brooke. "You and your friend are suffering from smoke inhalation."

"Like I really didn't know that? We were in a burning building. What the hell-"

"Brooke!" Sam knew Brooke's anger was about to get her into trouble. She would have to calm down if she wanted to get anywhere.

Glaring into the blonde doctor's blue eyes, she tried to restrain the fury that was boiling her blood, the thought of losing her sister being the underlining catalyst to her rage. "What's my o2 level?"

"Below what it should be. Like it or not Miss, you need that mask. But trust me the minute I can release you, I will." The doctor snapped before walking out of the room and away from the redhead that was trying to raise his blood pressure with her persistent aggravating tone. Brooke started muttering something about lab coat god-complex know-it-alls.

Sam's smile could easily be seen through the pale green oxygen mask he was wearing. "Quite an impression you made on him."

-----

"Dean, where the hell are you?"

"Voicemail again?" Brooke didn't try to hide her concern. She didn't have the energy.

Nodding, Sam pressed the end call button. He had called his brother's cell every five minutes since his personal effects had been returned to him from the hospital. After several tests and various medical personnel buzzing around the pair, the police had spent a little over a half-hour questioning them as to why they had been inside Ethan Wallace's house, and to whether or not they had anything to do with the blaze. Once they were satisfied the two hadn't done anything illegal, they had returned their belongings. Minus Brooke's knife, which they deemed a concealed weapon before issuing her a warning and threatening a fine. After the police had left, Brooke got dressed so quickly, Sam had barely managed to pull his jeans on, before she was marching out the door and down the hallway to the morgue.

Sam shoved the silver cell phone back into his jacket pocket. His clothes were still covered in the thick soot that had melanised the navy fabric to a filthy coal black. His jeans hadn't faired any better. Despite the grime neither he, nor Brooke, made any attempt to return to the cars and head back to their respective motel rooms for a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Instead, the two were walking straight back to Ethan's house. They hadn't discussed it, but Sam knew that was where they were headed. He needed to know what had happened, almost as much as Brooke did. Sam winced when he thought of the shriek Brooke had made when the coroner had showed them Ariel's body. The sight still burned his eyes. The fire had consumed her so completely that there was no way of recognizing the cindered corpse lying on the metal slab in the morgue as the raven-haired girl who had been his friend. In his entire life he had never heard anything like Brooke's scream. He had never heard a heart actually break, but Sam knew that's exactly what that sound had been. Since leaving the morgue she had said a sum total of ten words. Her face was drawn into tight lines and her eyes were lifeless. "Brooke, I-"

"Don't." She said simply, cutting off Sam's words. Brooke didn't want to hear anything Sam had to say just now. She knew him well enough to know he would try to offer her some words of comfort. She didn't want them. There was nothing he could possibly say to ease the pain that was ripping her heart away in tiny increments with every beat. There were no words to describe the agony she was feeling. Brooke hastened her steps as she ignored the pain that still lingered in her throat. She kept repeating the conversation she had had with the police in her mind. When they had told her Ariel hadn't survived the fire, the blood that had once coursed through her veins froze into a stagnant block of ice. Disbelief and fear rived away the rational part of her brain. She had demanded to see a body. There was no other way she would accept her sister's death. When she saw the charred corpse, her initial reaction was denial. She insisted at the top of her lungs that the woman lying on the slab wasn't her sister. When the coroner said he would do his best to run a DNA comparison, Brooke had gladly given up her blood for the test. Instead of waiting around the hospital, or the motel for the results, she needed to see the house. Brooke needed to find out what had happened - Why the hell the building lit up like it had been drenched in kerosene.

The streets were bustling with people heading on their way to different Friday night hotspots, and local watering holes as the sun began waning on the horizon. Brooke heard nothing but the beat of her heart pulsating through her eardrums. When they rounded the corner of Pike and Finch, her heartbeat tripled as she bolted down the street towards the house that she had narrowly escaped the night before. There were ribbons of yellow caution tape marking off every imaginable corner of the property. Despite the almost twenty-four hours that had elapsed since the building had gone up in flames, the charred remains still reeked of smoke. Looking at the debris that was all that was left of the house, Brooke's heart fell. The once ominous building was merely a pile of burnt rubble. There was a team of investigators in masks and jumpsuits sifting through the debris trying to determine the cause of the blaze.

Sam wasn't watching the investigators, as they moved in concert through the remains, bagging and tagging various pieces of evidence. He was watching the shadows, the hideaways; any place a man could stand unobserved from the world at large, searching the darkness for his brother. He had been hoping Dean would be there waiting for them. The fact that his brother wasn't answering his phone had Sam panicked, something about this was wrong. Where was Dean?

"You can't be here!" called one of the crime scene investigators, when she noticed the two young people standing inches within the caution tape. "This is an active investigation. You're not allowed on the property."

"Sorry, we're going." Sam called back before nudging Brooke's shoulder when she made no attempt to leave. "We have to go."

Digging in her heels and clinching her jaw, Brooke protested through her tightly clenched teeth. "No!"

"We'll come back once their gone." Sam urged calmly. Brooke's flat blue eyes were starting to grow feral, and her body was tensing up. "Come on. We could probably use some sleep." Sleep, food, and a shower not necessarily in that order. But Sam decided not to mention any of those. The look Brooke had given him, told him the last thing on her mind of was any of the above.

Brooke knew he was right. She needed to get some sleep to rid her mind of the fog that had settled in during the past twenty-four hours. Looking into the puppy dog eyes that were pleading with her, she sighed, "You're right."

Sam watched, as the untamed look that heated Brooke's blue eyes faded away. Her eyes glazed over with the pain that resided in them whenever anger wasn't igniting the iris. He couldn't decide which was worse; the lifeless glaze of the frigid blue that made his stomach twist in pain, or the heated agony that scored her iris and ripped at his heart. Shaking his head slightly when the answer came back to him in a silent blow. He couldn't bear either. Yet, there was nothing he could do to ease her pain or quench her anger. Sam placed his arm around Brooke and coaxed her into moving. "Come on."

-----

When the parking lot came into view both Sam and Brooke hurried their pace at the sight of the Impala still parked next to Brooke's Mustang. Thank god! Dean was waiting for them. The pair practically sprinted into the darkening parking lot, anticipation of a reunion as palatable as the cool evening breeze that was sweeping through the parking area. As the black car's windshield came into full view Sam realized Dean was not sitting in the driver's seat.

"Where the hell is Dean?" Brooke asked. In the back of her mind she had been counting on seeing her old friend waiting with some sort of cocky smart-ass comment and hair-brained scheme. She needed someone to have a plan. She needed to know there was something that she could do besides accept the death of her little sister. Brooke needed someone to say it wasn't over. "Something had to have happened to him. He would never just leave that car."

"You don't think…" Sam shut his mouth the minute the words left his lips. The last thing Brooke needed to hear was his underlining suspicion.

Brooke eyed Sam through carrot-coloured lashes. Apprehension ringing clear in her tone she asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing." Sam said, as he laced his fingers through hers in an effort to reassure her that there was nothing more to worry about. Brooke didn't need to know Sam was starting to fear for his brother's safety. Disappearing without a word was not something Dean did. Ever. "He has to be around somewhere."

"Should we wait for him?" Brooke tried to hide the disappointment that filled her voice. It wasn't until she uttered the words that she realized how desperately she wanted to get back to her motel and grab a shower. Though she had washed her face and managed to rid the majority of her hair from the sooty residue that lingered, her clothes were shrouded with the grime. The promise of cleansing soap, fresh clothes and a warm bed were starting to edge their way passed the grief that was darkening her soul. Maybe if she got some sleep things would be clearer.

Sam heard the disappointment in Brooke's words and saw the emotions welling in her eyes. Whether she would admit it or not, she wanted to rest. Sam glanced at the watch that was strapped to his wrist. It had been several hours since the blaze. There wasn't much Sam could do to locate his brother in the fastly approaching darkness given the silent pleading his body was making for sleep. Once he got some rest he would pick up the search for his AWOL brother. Besides he seriously doubted his brother was anywhere near the car at this point. Shrugging slightly Sam muttered, "He has his keys."

Nodding curtly, Brooke started walking quickly with Sam towards the Mustang. A brisk wind carried a few wayward strands of hair she had wrapped up in a ponytail over her eyes. Brushing at the strands and angling her head to allow her to maintain an unobstructed view, the sound of laughter caught her attention. Brooke glanced passed the lot and spotted two little girls sitting on the white stoop of their front porch. The elder of the two had the younger tucked in her arms as she listened intently to the words the young girl was reading from a small book sitting in her lap. The scene struck Brooke like a Mac trunk and she stopped dead in her tracks, watching the two little girls. A memory washed over her ripping the present from her as forcefully as it shoved her back into her past.

"_Good-" Ariel paused, as she stared at the words on the colourful page. Her black eyebrows matted as green eyes fixed on the word she couldn't quite make out. _

_Brooke hid the smile that crept up the corners of her mouth. Looking down over her little sister's head to the book that was gripped firmly in-between her hands, Brooke finished the word that had stumped the three and a half year old. "Night."_

"_Goodnight," Triumphantly finishing the stupefying word and moving on to the next, Ariel looked at the word before sounding it out. "Moon?"_

"That's right." Brooke said encouragingly. For the seven year old, the book that Ariel was so enthralled with was about as interesting as drying wallpaper paste, but she knew how important it was for her sister to read it herself.

_After turning to smile at her big sister, Ariel repeated the last line of the book. "Goodnight moon."_

"_Good job Air-bear." Brooke gave her sister a quick hug and silently thanked god that the torture of teaching her sister to read had finally reached its end. Watching Ariel close the red, blue, and green decorated book that centered on the night scene of a bedroom, Brooke hoped the endeavour would pay off. At this point Brooke wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers and sleep until the dawn beat against the window of her bedroom. Their parents were off on their third hunting trip this month and despite the occasional presence of Aunt Marie, Brooke was really starting to miss them. The fact that her little sister was staying glued to her hip for comfort did nothing to calm the heat of her annoyance. "Time for bed kido."_

_Ariel made no complaint, as she placed her book onto the small shelf that housed her most treasured belongings, and then climbed the small pine ladder up to the top of their bunk bed. Once she was settled in and Brooke had made sure she was in fact tucked in under her pink bedspread, Ariel watched the room darken after the lamp beside the bed was clicked off. "Brooke?"_

"_Go to sleep Ari." Brooke ordered as she stuffed her feet under her comforter, which, despite her fervent requests that it be anything but pink, matched her sister's spread to a tee. "Mom and Dad will be back tomorrow. You better get some sleep if you want to be up when they get here."_

"_Okay." Ariel said softly as she turned to face the window, opposite the bed, that was allowing the moonlight to bathe the wood floor of their bedroom. Despite the sleep that was fighting its way into her mind she couldn't stop thinking about the story she had just read. "Brooke?"_

_Brooke rubbed her tired eyes before answering. "Yeah?" _

"_Where does the moon go?" Young green eyes stared at the moon that was so close to the window she was sure she could touch it if she tried hard enough._

_Brooke thought for a moment she had misheard her sister. "What?"_

_Shifting in her bed until her head was hanging over the edge, allowing her to look at her sister, Ariel continued with her question. "In the morning, when the sun comes up, where does the moon go?"_

"_It goes to bed." Brooke answered as she pulled the cotton comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes. Maybe if she looked like she was about to fall asleep, Ariel would take the hint._

_Ariel's eyebrows matted as she thought of her sister's answer. Though satisfying to some degree it didn't quench her thirst for answers. "So where does the sun go at night?" _

"_It goes to bed," Without opening her eyes she muttered, "like you should."_

"_Brooke!" Frustration filled her little voice as she stared at her big sister. Brooke wasn't telling her the truth and it bothered her. _

"_Fine." Brooke knew her sister well enough to know if she didn't answer all her little sister's questions she wasn't going to get any sleep. The thought of her parents coming home to find the three year old had been up all night didn't sit well with her. She knew it was her job to watch out for Ariel. Opening her eyes she saw Ariel was still suspended over her bunk pinning her in her gaze like search lights. "You remember the globe Mom has on her desk?"_

_Ariel nodded causing her black hair to waver beneath her. "Uh-huh."_

_Brooke's words came out in a rush, as she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. "Okay, when the sun sets in the west it keeps on going, all the way around until it comes back to us."_

"_In the east?" Ariel questioned._

"_Right this very minute the sun is racing across the Atlantic Ocean towards us." Brooke reaffirmed, making certain her tone let her sister know she was in fact telling her the truth._

"_What about the moon?"_

_More questions. Her sister was so predictable. "It does the same thing. Everyday it chases after the sun." _

"_Does it ever catch up?" A sorrowful like emotion was filling Ariel voice._

"_No."_

_Hiding her face from her sister, Ariel sniffled. "That's sad."_

"_Why?" Brooke couldn't see what was upsetting about the sun and the moon. But her sister was near tears. When Ariel didn't answer Brooke pushed back her comforter and sat up poking the bed between the wooden slats that supported the mattress above her. "Ari?"_

_Ariel's answer came out in a hurried rush as she tried her best to keep the tears that were fogging her eyes from sounding in her voice. "The moon follows the sun but it never catches up. It must be so lonely."_

_Brooke smiled as understanding dawned. Getting out of bed and turning to face her little sister, Brooke climbed a few of the wooden steps until she could pat Ariel's little mermaid pyjama clad shoulder. "Not really. It has all the stars to keep it company."_

_Ariel turned back to face her big sister as she whimpered. "What about the sun?" _

"_What about it?" Brooke asked quietly._

_Green eyes welled with unshed tears as Ariel asked, "Who keeps the sun company?"_

_Brooke shrugged. "I don't know."_

"_Brooke?"_

"_Yeah?" Brooke asked mystified as she watched her little sister battle her tears. _

_Rubbing at the tears that clung to her lashes Ariel asked, "Do you think the sun gets lonely?"_

"_No." Brooke answered confidently as she rubbed her sister's arm. _

_Ariel's tears seized the minute Brooke answered. Tilting her head in question Ariel, enquired, "Why not?"_

"_Because everything is awake and alive in the day time. There's too much to see to get lonely." Seeing that her words had comforted her sister sufficiently, Brooke brushed her fingers beneath Ariel's eyelashes, stealing the last of her tears. Smiling and giving her sister a pat on her head that managed to mess her hair up just enough for the little girl to laugh Brooke continued, "Go to sleep Ari. It's late."_

"_Okay." Ariel giggled as she tried to fix her hair and push the black strands out of her face. "Goodnight Brooke."_

"_Goodnight Ari." _

Sam's left hand tightened in hers and the weight of his right hand on her shoulder brought her back from her memories. Brooke's breathing started to tatter again. Each breath more ragged then the next. Ariel was gone. Her baby sister was dead. Brooke hadn't been able to save her. Brooke hadn't protected her. Tears started welling in her eyes despite her willing them not to do so. Crying wasn't going to fix anything. Sam's arms around her were expected. She knew he would try to comfort her. That was one thing she knew for sure about Sam. He would do whatever he could to console you. A small piece of his personality that struck Brooke from the moment she had discovered its existence. The tears that were burning her oculus started falling freely from her eyes as she tried to speak. Her words came out in a jumbled mess of sobs. "Sam, I don't know what to do. I… I don't know how to fix this."

Sam tucked her head against his chest and stroked the red mop of her hair trying to offer her the only thing he could, with his presence. There simply were no words in existence that could take the pain of her loss from her. And try, as he did, he couldn't bring himself to say any of the nice and neat phrases people always spurted out in these circumstances. He wouldn't patronize her with trivial nonsense right now. "I'm sorry Brooke."

-----

The front door to Brooke's motel room opened with a bang. She couldn't be bothered to pussyfoot around. She was alone in the room. That knowledge ate at her until she turned back and slammed the door shut getting a little of her frustration out on the paint chipped door. Kicking off her boots as she shed her clothes leaving them where they fell in a cloth littered trail leading towards the bathroom. Brooke wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the grunge that was starting to seep into her soul. Stepping beneath the showerhead without testing the temperature she hissed as the hot water scolded the cuts and bruises that were starting to form on various parts of her body. Once the temperature was tolerable, Brooke reached for the bar of soap lying on the metal dish attached to the white-tiled wall. Maybe, She rubbed the aromatic bar of soap over her aching muscles, ensuring that in the tedious process of working up a good lather, that a sufficient amount of foamy bubbles were covering her soot-dirtied flesh.

Brooke wasn't aware of how long she stood beneath the showerhead's cleansing spray. Pouring the creamy liquid from her shampoo bottle she foamed the mixture into red hair that had turned a shade of auburn from the water, repeatedly trying to rid herself of the film that her psyche was convinced was still present despite the continual lathering. When the last of the foam was free from her hair she reached for the bottle again trying to drain the residue of the now empty bottle into her palms. The sound of knocking on the front door stopped her from tossing the bottle aside and reaching for Ariel's shampoo, which was sitting on the bathroom counter where she had left it yesterday. Brooke shook involuntarily as she thought of the cindered corpse everyone was convinced was her sister. Deep in her heart she couldn't believe Ariel was gone. She wouldn't. If Ariel was gone then the emptiness that was stealing away Brooke's desire to continue living would only increase until it swallowed her whole. The knocking was becoming more pronounced and closer together but Brooke couldn't hear the repeated banging over the sobbing that had taken over her once again. She had lived her entire life knowing one fundamental truth. Her life's mission, her very purpose in life was to protect her little sister. Brooke had failed.

Sam continued banging on the blue painted door. The vibrations of his fist pounding the wood loosening the gold number nailed to the door enough for it to clank against the rusting metal fastening. Brooke still wasn't answering. Apprehension filled Sam with a form of anxiety that went beyond simple worry. He was about to kick the door in, when the doorway opened enough to reveal the towel-clad redhead he was so worried about. "Are you alright?"

"No." Brooke answered coldly as she began shutting the door.

Sam's hands pressed gently enough against the door to keep it from closing but lightly enough to keep the wood frame from swinging back and hitting the redhead who was trying to shut him out.

Brooke braced herself against the door, knowing full well that if he really wanted, it wouldn't be much of a contest for Sam to push his way inside. She also knew he wouldn't. "Go away, Sam."

"No." Sam said firmly. He had no intention of going anywhere.

Resting her head against the door, Brooke sighed. She could feel the drops of moisture escaping her tresses and dripping down her back only to be trapped by the terry cloth that enwrapped her. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I just don't think you should be alone right now." The pressure that he felt on the other side of the door eased slightly. He could feel Brooke lean against the wooden entrance but she was no longer trying to shut the door. "Do you?"

Brooke thought about his question for a minute. She wasn't sure if she should be alone. At the very least Sam could keep her mind from wandering down the path of despair she found herself on. Moving away from the door and gripping at her towel to ensure there was no slippage, Brooke opened the door fully and gestured for Sam to come in. "Just let me get dressed."

Sam didn't say anything, as Brooke grabbed some clothes out of a duffel bag sitting on one of the beds and headed into the bathroom. He made sure not to watch her leave. Instead he flipped open the laptop sitting on the table and turned the machine on. After listening to the annoying welcome chiming of windows, he opened up the file marked ophidian. Sitting himself on one of the vacant chairs surrounding the table, he started skimming through the documents and photos that where stored in chronological order. Page after page brought him back to the same conclusion. The fire couldn't have been just some random accident. Even they didn't have that kind of bad luck. Sam started jotting down his thoughts and comments regarding the case file on a notepad that was nearby. Connecting small tidbits of information that gathered together to form the pattern he had missed until that point.

When Brooke had finished drying her hair sufficiently she brushed out the tangled mess and neatly twisted the damp strands into a French braid. Once that task was complete she finished drying off the rest of her body and pulled on her undergarments, regretting she hastily made choices. Sneering at the pink fabric that her sister had bought her as a prank birthday gift, knowing pink one of the few colours Brooke detested, Brooke kicked into a pair of soft denim jeans. By the time she had pulled on her light maize coloured t-shirt and walked out of the bathroom, Brooke was smiling as she remembered that birthday, despite the lacy fuchsia practical joke. Brooke was about to say something to Sam about getting a bite to eat when she saw him leaning over the laptop and writing furiously on a notepad. Whatever he was writing down she didn't want to pull him from his train of thought. Careful not to make any sudden movements that would catch his attention, Brooke shifted onto her bed and watched Sam scribble feverishly at the pad resting beneath his palm.

Looking down at the annotations Sam had penned on the notepaper moments before, he set the black ball point pen aside. After skimming the first few dozen pages the realization of how long he had been sitting there reading and note taking hit him. Glancing down at his watch he blinked several times before accepting the hour to be past midnight. The knowledge that he had been so focused he hadn't noticed the passing time made him search the ill-lit room for Brooke to make sure she was all right. Sam smiled when he realized she had succumbed to her grief driven exhaustion; she was curled up on the bed closest to the bathroom door fast asleep. Stretching as he stood, Sam abandoned the notepad he had been relentlessly abusing, as he shut the heated laptop off. Once the computer ceased humming, Sam stifled the yawn that was washing over him as he headed towards the vacant bed beside Brooke. Pausing long enough to grab the blue comforter that was sitting at the foot of Brooke's bed, Sam tucked the blanket around her before kicking off his shoes and peeling the cerulean blanket on his bed back long enough to fit his lanky frame between the sheets. It wasn't long after his head hit the pillow that Sam was fast asleep.


	11. Chapter 11 Separation Anxiety

* * *

Chapter Eleven – **Separation Anxiety**

* * *

_Help me..._

Brooke woke up in a cold sweat gasping for air. The icy drops of condensation collected and fell down the back of her neck as she struggled to control her breathing. Brooke searched the room for the voice that pulled her from the hellish nightmare that had her suspended over a liquid sea of guilt and pain. But in the darkness all she found was Sam locked in silent slumber. Pushing back the sweat-dampened strands of hair that clung to her forehead, she tried to keep herself from shuddering. Bringing her hands to her chest in an effort to rid the weighty feeling that was compressing her lungs, Brooke sat up. Rocking slightly she repeated to herself over and over again that Ariel hadn't called out for her. Casting off the blanket she couldn't remember wrapping herself in, Brooke stood silently and walked to the small bathroom adjacent her bed. Not bothering with the light switch that would only wake Sam, Brooke turned the small iron faucet handle marked with a blue C on just enough to release the cool liquid with little more than a quiet dripping sound. Splashing the water over her heated face and cupping it her palms for a quick drink, Brooke focused on maintaining even breaths. A task that was become harder every time she remembered Ariel wasn't fast asleep in the bed next to her. Brooke would have given anything to wake from this real life nightmare that was choking her very essence. Returning to her bed in the darkness without making a sound, she disregarded the desire to not wake Sam. She needed to hear someone's voice to ground her. To know that she wasn't completely lost in that place between awake and asleep where her nightmares caused the most havoc. Brooke sat on the blanket that moments before had been wrapped around her body, closing her eyes against the vision of her sister's cindered body that kept seeping back into her consciousness.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked as he watched Brooke's shadowed silhouette rocking in the darkness. The sound of the faucet running had arisen him from his slumber but judging by the intensity of Brooke's swaying she had awaken from some nightmare that was stealing away the ataraxis sleep had granted her previously. Pulling off the comforter that was draped over his tall frame before rolling off his mattress, Sam settled himself next to Brooke on her bed.

Exhaling loudly Brooke readily accepted the shoulder Sam offered her as he put his arm around her. "Just talk to me."

Nodding understandingly Sam started to regale Brooke with a story about the first time he had tried to get a library card with no permanent address or parental consent. As he spoke he could feel the tension that was gripping Brooke's body ease. Stroking her arms Sam continued talking in a comforting tone, making sure none of his stories included Dean. Mentioning his brother would only remind Brooke of her sister.

Brooke wasn't sure how long she sat and listened to the soothing tonal pattern of Sam's voice. It wasn't until she felt the cotton comforter brush the edge of her chin that she became aware of Sam's silence. He was tucking the fabric around her as he shifted to move off the mattress. When Sam gently framed the side of her face in his palm Brooke's hand adjoined his, holding him there momentarily. Sam murmured something about getting some sleep but made no further attempts to leave the bed, instead he gathered Brooke closer to him, kissing the top of her head softly in a reassuring manner. Resting her head lightly on his shoulder, enjoying the rhythmic beating of his heart beneath her, Brooke fell asleep to the lyrical pulsing.

-----

"Help me…"

Ariel's eyes flung opened as a wave of emotions washed over her. Choking on the words she had silently uttered in her sleep, trying to gather her bearings Ariel searched the room for anything or anyone familiar. She wanted to see her sister's pissed off expression right before she started to rip her a new one for going back into the building without saying anything. As her eyes focused, Brooke was nowhere in sight. Only white sterile walls and various monitoring devices interweaving around the bed she was lying in. Ariel knew she was in a hospital, not based on the room's surrounding, but by the pain that was barrelling through her mind. The persistent whispers of fear and death that cloaked every hospital she had entered since becoming an empath reamed her senses.

Every sound was amplified in the quiet room she was placed in. There was some sort of heart monitor attached to the various rubber pads that were glued to her skin and a cool flowing drip coming from the IV that was pierced into the vein on her hand. The feel of an oxygen mask that was regulating her breathing and providing her with a constant supply of the air she felt so robbed of made speech nearly impossible. Trying to focus on her surroundings and not the wall of pain that was fighting to make its way through her psyche, Ariel strained her ears to identify the location of the consistent beeping that was coming from somewhere else in the room. Judging by the rhythmic tone the sound was coming from another monitor. Ariel was not alone in this room. Instinctively she knew it was Dean lying next to her. She could feel his pain as clearly as her own despite her effort to push the feelings out of her mind. Before she could really form any coherent thoughts the wave of anguish drowned her once more despite her attempts to fight it. Dean's pain was a small voice in a mighty chorus that was bombarding her senses. Drowning in the emotions that wouldn't let up she gave into the sensations and let the darkness take her.

-----

"Brooke?"

Sam sat up in bed the minute he heard the front door close. He glanced at the unmade bed next to him long enough to verify that the redhead had in fact vacated the room. Sam tossed off the covers and grabbed his beat-up sneakers, pulling them on before racing towards the front door in hot pursuit of woman who had just snuck out of the motel without a word. The bright afternoon sun hit him spot on preventing him from making out his surroundings immediately. After blinking profusely, willing his eyes to adjust, Sam spotted Brooke about to climb into her Mustang with the notebook he had been writing on the night before clutched firmly in her hands. "Brooke!"

"Go back to sleep, Sam." Brooke called back as she flung the navy car door open, threw the notepad onto the passenger seat, and settled into the driver's seat in one fluid motion.

Sam knew if Brooke had read any of his notes she was most likely heading off to hunt the son of bitch who had caused her sister's early death. Running flat out in order to bridge the gap between them, Sam's hand grabbed the driver's side door before it had a chance to close. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Hunting." Brooke answered simply. She didn't have to justify herself to him. Sam wasn't the one who had just lost his sibling. Glancing quickly at the notepad resting on the tan leather seat that had always belonged to her sister, anger quickly filled the gapping hole in Brooke's heart that was ridden with the pain of her lost. Gripping the steering wheel with unnecessary force she bite her lip to keep herself from giving way to the tears that appeared whenever she thought of Ariel's charred body on the coroner's slab. "Either get in the car or let go of the damn door. I'm doing this with or without you."

"Doing what?"

Brooke's mouth flattened as she spoke in an icy tone that revealed the pain she was feeling more deeply than tears ever could. "Ending this."

Sam wasn't sure why, but something in his gut was screaming at him that things weren't what they appeared to be at present. Ariel's death was just too neat. And Dean's sudden disappearance couldn't just be coincidence. Sam couldn't quite explain the feeling, but whatever it was he had to trust it. "Brooke, it's going to be okay. We're going to find a way to make this okay."

"Okay? My sister is dead, Sam! How is that okay?"

"You need to try and keep it together. You can't just go after this guy. Not after what happened." If Ethan had in fact been the source of the blaze, any direct confrontation would meet with similar results.

"Why not?" She demanded hotly. There was no grey area in this for her. Everything was black and white. Her sister was dead and the man that killed her was not. Brooke had no intention of letting that bastard live long enough to hurt another living thing. And she wouldn't rest until his body was lying next to Ariel's in the morgue.

Brooke had determination set in her jaw and her eyes were ablaze with the rage that was coursing through her veins with every breath she took. Sam knew reasoning with the redhead was going to be nearly impossible. But he had to try, if only to keep her from doing something stupid. "Because you'll get yourself killed. Or arrested."

"I don't care." Brooke said simply. And she didn't. Ariel was dead. There was nothing left to fight for. The only thing that was keeping her together was the fierce desire to avenge her sister's death. To make sure no one else suffered her fate at the hands of the ophidian ring.

Watching the look in Brooke's eyes carefully, Sam questioned, "You're just going to hunt him down?"

"No, no, no. I'm not _just_ going to hunt him down." Brooke's answer was everything she wasn't at the moment, calm and collected. "I'm going to kill him."

"You can't kill a human being, Brooke!" Sam didn't try to hide the apprehension that was weighing his words.

"Watch me!"

"Brooke-"

"You got a better idea?" Brooke cut in coolly. She needed to make Sam understand this was the only course of action that made any sense. "What you want me to do? Go to the cops and tell them a man wearing a cursed ring just killed my sister in a fire?"

"You getting yourself arrested isn't going to make it better, Brooke." When he saw his words sinking in pass the rage boiling her blood he added quietly, "That's not what Ariel would have wanted."

"It doesn't really matter what she wanted." Brooke fought the trapped tears choking her throat and blurring her vision until the only thing remaining was the undeniable truth. "She's not here."

Sam crouched down in the doorway and slowly started prying Brooke's fingers from the rawhide steering wheel. Once her hands were free of the leather he held them in his own, absently rubbing his thumbs along the tops of her hands in a comforting gesture. "If we're doing this, we have to have a plan. We just can't go around half-cocked."

Brooke nodded. Sam was right, marching in gun's blazing wasn't going to do anything more than ensure her a spot next to her sister in the morgue. The anger that had driven her out to the car quickly evaporated, leaving her drowning in a sea of agony. Her dreams had been a torrent of memories and regrets, of words she never said and sentiments she had never expressed. Deep down, Brooke had always thought there would be time. That even if she never said the things she felt, Ariel knew them instinctively. Not once in her life did she ever think she would live to see the day when she would bury her little sister. Brooke had always believed she would be the one to fight one to many battles. That she would be the one waiting on the other side to greet her sister when the time came. The pain of knowing not only the loss but also the guilt of that loss was drowning out all reasonable thought from her mind. Closing her eyes, not wanting Sam to see anymore of her inner struggle she pulled her hands free from his grasp and shifted out of the car, careful to avoid stepping on the man who was trying so hard to give her the one thing she knew she couldn't have. Hope.

Sam closed the car door and quickly caught up to the redhead who was trying her best from losing it despite the pressure of the situation. Placing his hand lightly on her shoulder he spoke softly, soothingly, "Brooke, talk to me."

Turning to face the man who refused to just let her drown herself in her sorrow, Brooke pinned him between blue eyes as icy and wintry as the artic itself. She had lost all hope and he needed to accept that. "There's nothing to say."

"I don't believe you." Sam pressed quietly. "And I don't think you do, either."

"What do you want me to say Sam? That sometimes I swear life is just a gapping void seeking to destroy what reserve I have left until it finally breaks me and causes me to snap under the pressure? And there is nothing I can do but watch the people I love suffer and die? There is nothing I can do other then feign composure. Which at this point I am pretty damn good at. Is that what you really want to hear? Because right now, I couldn't be bothered to hide it. I'm too damn tired to pretend. My sister is gone. What is there left to say?"

The pain that clouded the hazel of Sam's eyes made a shiver run down her spine. She hadn't expected him to take her words to heart. And she hadn't meant to dump all her crap on him. It wasn't his fault and she couldn't take her pain out on him. It wasn't fair. He was hurting too. Ariel had meant something to him as well. When she opened her mouth to apologize for her outburst Sam shook his head causing the chestnut strands to tangle in his eyelashes. His hand tightened on her shoulder signifying his understanding. She had nothing to apologize for and he wasn't going to let her. Brooke wasn't sure why, but just that gesture in itself touched her. She had been surly and irate, given him a look of death that sent most men running for the hills, but he was still standing there. Despite her behaviour, he hadn't tried to seek any form of apology or once try to patronize her in response to her bitter comments. He understood.

Sam saw the pain and anger in Brooke's eyes fade into something that looked like regret. He was about to say something about her having nothing to apologize for when the wind that was starting to pick up in the afternoon heat lifted a few wayward strands from Brooke's tightly twisted braid, carrying them across the short distance between them until the reddish tips were brushing sensitive skin beneath his chin. Moving his hand to tuck the silky strand behind her ear at the same moment she had motioned to do the same. When their fingertips met they stood silently watching their reflections in the other's eyes. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the rise of her cheekbone before letting his hand fall back to his side, Sam started to wonder whether his reactions to Brooke were starting to cross the line between comforting and caressing. Until he was sure, he had to make very sure to keep an appropriate distance between them.

The shrieking beep of her cell phone kept Brooke from wondering exactly what was going on between her and the youngest Winchester. Her rational side told her the feelings echoing through the undemanding gestures was merely residue adrenaline mixing with the pain of losing a loved one. That there was nothing more than a desire to console was motivating each gesticulation. Reaching into her jean pocket to retrieve the shrilling device, glancing at the caller id before pressing the talk button, she held the receiver close to her mouth and answered, "Hello?"

"Miss Hamal?"

Remembering the bogus name she had given to the hospital Brooke affirmed, "Yes."

"This is Dr. Dickson of the North Bay City Morgue. We met yesterday."

"I remember." Brooke replied coldly. She wasn't likely to forget the man that had unveiled her sister's cindered body at any point in her lifetime.

"Yes, well I thought I would give you a call to let you know we received the DNA test results back this afternoon."

Brooke released the breath still had been holding the moment she heard the word 'result'. "And?"

There was a long pause before the man on the other end started speaking once more. "Do you think you would be able to come down here so we can speak in person?"

"Is that my sister or not?" Brooke demanded hotly. She needed to know as much as she needed her next breath. Possibly more so.

"If you could come-"

"It's a yes or no question, Doc! Answer it and I'll go wherever the hell you want me to. But don't make me wait anymore than I already have."

"I'm sorry. I cannot discuss this kind of information over the phone. When can you come in?"

"Right now."

-----

The elevator doors chimed open as Brooke and Sam walked off the lift heading down the small corridor and past the double metal doors that shielded the North Bay City morgue from the rest of the hospital. An overly chipper brunette was sitting at the reception desk across the metal doors filing her nails with a pink emery board. When Sam and Brooke rushed passed her she quickly hopped out of her chair and hurried after them asking where they were headed. Brooke paused and turned long enough to give the woman a stare she usually reserved for biker's who thought every girl at a bar must be looking for a lay. The brunette stopped dead in her tracks, turned on her heels and headed back to her desk, most likely to call security. Brooke was hardly in a mood for mixing words. She continued heading towards Dr. Dickson's office hideaway without a word. Once she reached the glass and metal door she flung it open and walked inside without so much as a knock. The doctor was talking with one of his colleagues and both men got up out of their chairs the minute Brooke stormed in.

"Is that my sister or not?" Brooke demanded.

"Excuse us will you, Martin?" Dr. Dickson spoke quietly as he looked at his colleague before gesturing towards the door. The other man muttered something and quickly walked passed the fuming redhead and a silent Sam. The doctor adjusted the blue claret tie he was wearing and motioned for a soft leather chair in front of his glass desk. "Ms. Hamal won't you take a seat?"

Brooke didn't budge except to settle her arms against her chest Brooke as she pinned the doctor between her piercing blue eyes that were filled with impatience. "Answer my question."

"Please, I think its better if you-"

Brooke didn't give him a chance to finish. "Answer my damn question!"

Sensing his defeat the doctor quickly gave in under the pressure Brooke's ominous presence was pinning him in. He removed the glasses that were sitting on the bridge of his nose long enough to wipe his brow from the drops of sweat that had started collecting the moment the fiery redhead had entered his office. "No. The DNA results are negative. You don't have a single allele in common with the deceased."

"That's not my sister?" It wasn't really a question. Brooke's shocked words were more for her confirmation that she hadn't misheard the balding middle-aged man who had just told her the words she had hoped against all hopes he would say.

"That woman is not your sister. No." Dr. Dickson confirmed firmly as he watched the look of barely conceal rage that had engulfed the young woman in front of him dissipate.

"That's not my sister." Brooke repeated the words over and over again until the ice wrapping its way around her heart started to thaw. That charred corpse in the morgue was not her little sister. Relief washed over her almost making her knees give way. That wasn't Ariel. Once the relief wafted its way through her body, Brooke's mind started working again in a tizzy. If that wasn't her sister, where the hell was she? "Then where is she?"

The doctor answered simply, "I don't know."

-----

"Nice to see you're finally awake. My name is Dr. Harris. I've been the attending physician on your case. You were brought here suffering from-"

"Smoke inhalation, carbon monoxide poisoning and mild asphyxiation." Ariel said firmly despite the ache in her throat that hoarsened her voice.

"That's correct." The doctor said quietly, not bothering to conceal his curiosity he started again. "How did you-"

Ariel interrupted the pointless question the doctor was about to ask her. He didn't need to know she was pre-med at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. There were more pressing issues than her scholastic abilities. Despite her intense desire to do so, Ariel could no longer feel Dean's presence in the room. Her empathic abilities had been silenced by the relentless assault of fear and grief that blanketed the hospitals walls. She needed to know if Dean was alright. "The man that was with me, how is he doing?"

Disregarding his unanswered question the dark-haired doctor flipped open one of the pale yellow folders that he had pinned to the plastic clipboard balanced on his palm. After glancing at the file's contents he answered, "Your husband's doing alright considering everything that happened. Though, he is still in a semi-comatose state. His breathing is being regulated as a precaution, but we were able to stop the haemorrhaging in his leg."

"Coma?" The word stuck in her throat as the meaning numbed her mind with shock. Ariel knew Dean wasn't doing well but the thought of him in a coma had never crossed her mind. He must be worse off than she suspected.

Watching the young green-eyed woman carefully the doctor tried his best to put her mind at ease. "Yes, there's no cause for concern though. After he went into hemorrhagic shock, we merely kept him in that comatose state in order to intubate him and perform a Bronchoscopy to assess and repair the damage to his lungs. He's condition was slightly more severe than yours I'm afraid. And the amount of blood that he lost on his way here is prolonging his recovery time. On the up-side you both responded extremely well to hyperbaric oxygenation."

"Both?" Ariel wasn't aware her condition required such a drastic procedure.

"Yes, you required compression as well." Dr. Harris affirmed quietly.

Racking her brain for everything she could recall about hyperbaric oxygenation, she remembered that the process usually reduced the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning on the nervous system, it was suppose to make your recovery quicker. Yet the doctor had made no mention of releasing her. Raising her eyebrows in silent question Ariel asked, "How bad are we?"

"Like I said, you responded well to the treatment. You're oxygen levels are returning to normal, your CO levels are dropping steadily, you should be out of here in a day or so." The doctor said with a smile. He was quite pleased with the way she had responded to treatment. Given the length of time it had taken for the pair to be brought to the hospital and the state they had arrived in, his team had done an excellent job keeping them alive. When the black-hair woman started biting her bottom lip he guessed her thoughts had returned to the man who had brought in with her. "We'll be removing the endotracheal tube and cutting your husband's meds after we take him off the ventilator. He should be awake in no time. However, he will be required to stay an extra day. At least until the carbon monoxide level go down to a more expectable rate. If his oxygen level rises sufficiently he could go home around the same time as you."

Assuming there was some reasonable explanation for why the doctor kept referring to Dean as her husband, Ariel focused on questions burning in her mind. "Where is he? Can I see him?"

"Sure. But he's-"

"Unconscious." She finished. Ariel just wanted to make sure he was okay. She needed to see with her own eyes that things were as optimistic as the dark-haired doctor claimed they were.

The doctor set down the files he was holding and moved towards the screen that was dividing the small room. Gripping the semi-transparent white curtain in his hand he pulled back the fabric revealing a concert of monitors and tubes all connecting to various parts of Dean's body. Ariel almost stopped breathing when she saw the machinery surrounding Dean. She watched his ventilator rhythmically rising and falling as it regulated his breathing. The quiet printing of his electrocardiogram hummed in the background as the small roll of paper cascaded down the side of the device that attached to the dozens of coated wires taped to various parts of his body. Reading the heart monitor that was flashing the pulse rate being taken from the clip on his right middle finger and listening to blood pressure cuff strapped to his arms puff up as it took another reading that was quickly displayed and printed on the small machine attached to it, Ariel swallowed hard.

The sound of her breath catching moved the doctor to speak quickly. "Now, Mrs. Warren remember he's doing extremely well, given the circumstances."

"Warren?" Ariel said under her breath. Understanding hit her the minute the doctor used the name printed on her fake id. She had seen Dean use a credit card with the same last name imprinted on the plastic tag. He must have had the card on him when they were brought here. That also explained why the two were in the same room despite the difference in their conditions. Looking away from Dean's unusual pallor and pinning the doctor between two speculative green eyes Ariel ignored the pain residing her voice, forcing the words out unwaveringly. "Tell me everything."

-----

"Where the hell is my sister?"

The hospital administrator quickly stood to his feet at Brooke's forceful demand. The young woman had barged into his office without announcing herself, shot a name at him as she tossed a hospital file across his desk, and started demanding answers to questions he didn't have. Setting his jaw, he clipped back, "Manners young lady! Manners!"

Crossing her arms in sheer anger, Brooke met, and surpassed, the stare the irritated hospital administrator was giving her. Exhaling and counting backwards from one hundred in French, Brooke forced a calm—which she hadn't felt—to wash over her expression. Placing her palms on the dark wood desk that laid between her and the chunky fifty something doctor, who was doing little more then fray her already waning patience, Brooke spoke, careful to keep the bitter edge out of her voice. "You're right. Let's try this again. Where the hell is my sister? Please."

"Look I already told you I don't know." The doctor plopped back in his brown leather chair and looked at the young woman, whose demeanour was as coarse as it was cattish; he studied her expression for a moment. Looking through the file that had been flung at him moments prior, he made a quick assessment of its contents before turning to face the computer monitor placed on the corner of his desk. After typing in several words and reading the results of his search he turned the screen to face the angry redhead glaring at him over the monitor. "Aside from a Ms. Hamal, that unidentified woman in the morgue is the only other woman that came to this hospital on Thursday. I'm sorry, but there simply were no other admissions matching that description."

Reading and mentally memorizing the contents of the monitor, Brooke grabbed the file she had shied at the older man before turning on her heels and storming out of the office muttering under her breath, "This is getting me nowhere."

Brooke marched straight through the hospital corridors without looking at them. She remembered the path she had taken. Thoughts of her sister's whereabouts were clouding out everything else, but the need to get back to the car, and find out if Sam had been more successful in his quest with the police, was more pressing at the moment then the depressed feelings that were invading her mind. The sunlight that hit her the moment she stormed out the front entrance of the small community hospital blinded her vision against the beautiful summer scene that was unfolded in front of her. She didn't see the vivid green of the neatly clipped grass or the blowing leaves. She didn't hear the melody of the chipper songbirds hopping from the tree branches as she passed them on her way to her car. All she saw was Sam sitting on top of the hood of her car, cell phone in one hand and the word-littered notepad in the other.

Sam disconnected his call and looked up just in time to see Brooke headed his way. Shifting off the car hood, he watched her worry her bottom lip with the edges of her teeth absently as she approached. She didn't look too happy, which meant she had probably been as successful as he had in locating her sister. "Any luck?"

"Big steaming pile of nothing. Tell me you got something from the cops." Brooke asked hopeful that Sam had some answers. When Sam just shook his head, she cursed softly. "That's just great! So she's not in the morgue, the hospital or the police station. What's left?"

Shrugging slightly Sam tried not to sound defeated when he answered, "I don't know."

"Heard from Dean, yet?" Brooke queried. Sam averted his gaze as he shook his head once more as Brooke dropped her head into her palms. This was turning into a nightmare. As if not knowing where her sister was could get any worse, Dean's disappearance had her tottering on her last nerve. "Well let's assume that they're together. Hopefully."

"Hopefully."

"Look as much as I want – no scratch that – need to find Ari, I can't ignore the fact that a girl lost her life because of this ring. We have to finish this job before anyone else gets killed. Then we can find Ari and Dean."

"We should check with missing persons'. That girl has to have someone looking for her. Maybe if we can find out who she was, we can find out why she died." Sam turned and headed towards the passenger side of the navy mustang. When Brooke didn't make any movements toward the car he asked, "What's wrong?"

"How did we miss that?"

Confusion clear in his tone, Sam threw the notepad he was holding into the backseat of the car through the lowered window as he spoke. "Miss what?"

"Each time the ring had a new owner, a female victim died in a fire. How did we miss that?" Brooke watched Sam curiously as she headed towards her door.

Leaning into the door he had just opened, Sam thought about the question before answering. "The timing. Up until the last few cases they didn't really have anyway to determine the cause or time of death."

"Well, if you're right, then things are just getting started here." Brooke flung her door open and slid inside, grumbling the entire time.

"I think so." Sam agreed before settling himself in the passenger seat and closing the door behind him.

The sound of Brooke's door slamming shut echoed slightly through the metal body of the mustang. Brooke shoved her car key into the ignition and turned it, bringing the car back to life with a noisy purr that reminded her exactly why she loved this car so much. Checking her blind spot before backing the car out of the parking spot she had wedged it into, she vocalized the thought that had been roaming around her head since the moment she was certain Ethan Wallace was wearing the ophidian ring. "We need to take him out before anyone else gets hurt, Sam."

Leaning his head back against the tan upholstered headrest Sam sighed. "We've had this conversation already."

"And we'll keep having it until you see reason." Exiting the parking lot Brooke turned onto the road that led back to Dean's impala. As much as she doubted it, she wanted to check one last time to make sure Dean wasn't there.

"I'm not going to help you kill a human being. _And_ I'm not going to let you kill him either."

"Fine. What do you propose we do then?" Brooke snapped.

Running his hand through his hair as he took in a shaky breath, Sam started thinking aloud. "Female victim, burning the night of the new moon. Sounds like a ritual."

"Alright, Sherlock, connect the dots."

"Cursed snake ring, grants desires, but requires a female sacrifice on the night of a new moon. Something has to be empowering the stupid thing. We need to pin down the ring's origin. It has to be connected to something else." Sam finished watching Brooke's expression carefully, hoping she would relax the determined set of her jaw long enough to hear him out.

"Find who the sacrifice is being made to and we _might_ find a way to end this?" Brooke demanded, slightly annoyed that she was even having this conversation.

"That's the plan." Sam nodded with a slight grin on his face. Brooke was starting to cave. He could sense it.

"Fine." Exhaling loudly, Brooke glanced over at Sam. He was watching her with puppy dog eyes again. She had to give him credit for his ability to get you to buy right into whatever he said with a simple pensive stare. "We'll try it your way. Two days, tops. If we don't find a way to stop him by then, we do it my way. Deal?"

"Deal."

-----

The feel of metal digging into his skin brought Dean out of his dream-like state in a rush, as he reached out for the source of the instrument. Grabbing the hand that was holding the sharp implement, his eyes opened just in time to see a small brunette leap back as she released the needle she had been using to take his blood, dropping one of the vials she had collected onto the white tiled floor. The vial crashed to ground, as the blood held within it splattered over the tiles, and settled in a small pool of reddened glass.

"Whoa! Calm down." The young nurse demanded as she tried her best to keep the surprise from stripping her cheeks of all colour. Once Dean realized she meant him no harm, he relaxed his grip on her wrist and fell back against the pillows that were supporting his head. Seeing that the he had calmed down, the brunette started speaking in reassuring tones. "You're in a hospital but you're going to be just fine Mr. Warren. The doctor will be in to see you soon."

Dean nodded his understanding and asked quietly, "The woman with me. How is she doing?"

"Why don't you ask me yourself?" Ariel asked, the smile she was wearing was audible in her tone. The nurse left Dean's bedside and headed towards the front door carrying the small basket of blood vials and needles. She pressed a small button by the doorframe before she exited the room. Moments after she left the white screen separating Ariel's bed and Dean's moved, allowing the pair to see each other once again. Ariel looked across the small distance between them noting Dean's once pale skin was already starting to bloom with healthy colour. The various machinery and array of monitors that had littered Dean's bedside had been removed. Leaving only the steady IV dip, heart monitor and oxygen mask. "Nice to see you awake."

Behind the green air mask strapped to his face Dean's smile beamed through. "Nice to be awake. How long was I out?"

"Don't really know. I just woke up this morning."

"How are Sam and Brooke?" Dean asked. Ariel answered with a fluid shrugging motion, but said nothing. "They aren't here?"

Ariel shook her head. When she had asked about her sister the nurse simply replied with the typical 'I don't know' before taking her blood and moving on to Dean.

Dean watched Ariel bite the bottom of her lip, reddening the fleshy fold with the intensity of her concern. Looking around the sterile white room Dean sneered at the smell of ammonia and old coffee that was filling his nostrils through the vent holes on his oxygen mask. He wasn't sure which was worse. The nasty combination of ammonium hydroxide and coffee, or the plastic sticky taste of oxygen through the mask. "So how long before we can get out of here?"

Green eyes filled with humour as Ariel released her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows in question. "Anxious already?"

"I hate hospitals."

-----

"Emily Singleton."

Looking up from the stack of books surrounding the wooden table Brooke had been sitting at for the pass four hours, she rubbed her aching temples and locked eyes with the man who had successfully pulled her mind away from the texts that had her focus so narrowed. "What?"

"The woman in the morgue. Her name was Emily Singleton." Sitting down on the wooden chair that was sitting next to the chair Brooke was straddling, Sam plopped the small black notebook he was holding onto the weathered textbook sitting in front of her. Reciting the information from memory he recounted the most relevant facts ceremoniously. "Twenty-four, Caucasian. Lived three blocks from Ethan's house. Went missing Thursday afternoon. Last seen walking through the park a block from her home. Her family is giving DNA samples for comparison as we speak."

"But you know it's her?" Brooke tried to stay positive. After all this was the best lead they had had thus far. But with each passing minute that she didn't hear from her sister, Brooke couldn't help but think about the silver plated forty-five sitting in her glove compartment.

"Fits the bill right down to her height." Sam said matter-of-factly, before replacing the black notepad into his back pocket. "Okay then. Your turn."

"We had already traced the ring back to Egypt but given the new info on its habits I think I managed to pin it down to a goddess." Brooke's smile was ridden with satisfaction as she lifted the weighty book off the table and dropped it dramatically in Sam's lap before she started summarizing the information contained on the yellowed page. "Meet the snake goddess Meretseger. The name means 'she who loves silence'. Legend has it that she would entertain herself by punishing the greedy with blindness or her venom."

Sam glanced at a rather pleased looking Brooke before he started scanning the page. The page contained several images of the goddess in question as well as a litany of hieroglyphs inter-dispersed through the text that he quickly identified as Latin. "Nice. Connection?"

"At first nothing. But when I started digging, I found this." Brooke flipped several of the colourful pages until she settled on one revealing a detailed diagram depicting an elaborate rite. "Her worship was connected the lunar cycles and routinely had a virgin sacrifice involved in the ritual."

"Sounds like we have a winner. What else?" Sam asked, as he unconsciously began translating the Latin text.

Crossing her arms over the back of the chair as she spoke, Brooke started thinking out loud. "Details are stretchy. No one has worshipped her for thousands of years. But my guess is the ring must bear her mark or symbol. It could be invoking her in some way."

Sam nodded his agreement as spoke. "Or she could have possessed the ring. But the question is, what does she get out of the bargain?"

Pointing to the top of the page, centering on a small symbol with her index finger Brooke tapped the paper several times before answering. "My Egyptian is a little rusty but that hieroglyph in the corner – I'm pretty sure it's the symbol for soul."

"Devil's bargain." Sam didn't even hesitate to make the assumption. Given what he had read thus far and what Brooke was telling him, there was no doubt in his mind.

Brooke grinned, silently thanking John for raising his boys the way he had. Not that she had expected anything less from a Winchester, but she was pleased she didn't have to do any hand holding through this process. She just didn't have the patience. "Exactly. I give you what you want-"

"You give me your soul." Sam finished as the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk.

"Bingo."

"So how do we destroy the damn thing?" Sam asked as he scoured the page looking for any clues.

"Melt the bitch down. Grind the metal into dust. Of course, that's the easy part. The hard part is getting it off of Ethan's finger without making his hit list." Brooke abandoned the chair she was straddling, grabbed the book out from in-between Sam's palms and started heading towards the beat-up photocopier sitting off in the corner of the library's reference room.

Shaking his head before standing up and following Brooke, wiping off the dust marks on his dark green shirt, Sam muttered to himself sardonically. "And here I thought this was going to be difficult."

-----

"Are you alright, son?"

Ethan looked back over his shoulder at his mother's worried face. She had been hovering over him since she heard about the fire that completely destroyed his house. Yet despite the concern that filled her eyes, he couldn't muster up anything more than a basic acknowledgement of her feelings. Only her persistent pestering forced him to speak. "I'm fine."

Mrs. Wallace stared at her son as though she had never seen him before. The past two days he had barely spoken to her except to utter the same two words over and over. In the thirty-four years of his life, he had never been this uncouth. Chalking up his behaviour to the fire that had destroyed his home she smiled sweetly at her son and hoped that given time he would return to normal. Placing the small tray of tea and cookies she had brought with her, on the edge of the desk he was working at, she smiled before rushing back out of the room.

Ethan returned his attention to the intricately designed symbol he had been sketching on his drawing paper. A striking scaled snake coiled on top of a weight scale. He had spent the past several hours shading each scale individually, varying strokes of grey creating an almost three-dimensional image that to the casual eye looked as though it was ready to pounce of the page. Picking up a small piece of charcoal from the paper's edge, he pressed the tip back to an unfinished scale. The gritty feel of the charcoal reminded him very much of the simple lead dagger he had fashioned three days before. The dagger in itself had been perfectly weighted, smoothed to perfection yet sharp enough to pierce through living flesh. And that had been exactly what he had done. Gripping the charcoal with such force that the thin stick snapped in his fingers, he remembered the look on Emily's face when the dagger had penetrated the soft tissue guarding her heart, the feel of her life pouring out over his hands, as her eyes darkened until the green orbs were glassy and exanimate. Ethan had seen Emily Singleton for several years; she jogged by his house every morning before work. Yet the reminiscence of ending her life did little more than excite a desire to do it again. Some very distant part of him knew this was wrong. That something had happened to him. That he wasn't being himself, but that part was so outweighed by feelings of insatiability he couldn't explain.

The desk lamp hit a glaring flash on the ring that was coiled around his right ring finger, and the feelings of culpability and apprehension melted away, as though they had never resided in his heart. The gratification of taking a life flared within his memory, doubling, as he pictured the alter Emily's body had been laid upon, beautifully welded panels of iron weaving in and out of each other until the base itself formed a nested surface, displaying her bound body like a jewel in a velvet box. In the five years he had seen her, not once had she ever made an effort to get to know him. The only reason he even knew her name was because her friends would call out to her on her runs. So young and so beautiful, in such a rush to live her life, yet, she never had the time to even return a smile as she passed. The sting of that kind of dismissal had troubled him to no end. Yet, it was that very rejection that had caused an end to her life. The irony of that thought brought a smile to his lips. Yes, she had paid the ultimate price for her misdeeds.

Thinking back on that night, Ethan felt a stab of regret that he had not killed the man he had found skulking dangerously close to Emily's lifeless body. Had he walked a few more steps towards the pool of blood that darkened the white carpet, he would have been blatantly exposed. Yet, it wasn't the near discovery of Emily's body that had cause Ethan to strike the man. It was the man himself. The same man he had met at the park earlier. The one who had caused the searing pain to shoot its way through his tendons until every movement of the inelastic tissue was agony itself. And once the pain had subsided he had made an even bigger mistake. The man had threatened him. Yes, leaving the man there to burn was perfect punishment. But he wished he had killed him on the spot, and watched the crimson blossom of his life's blood seep out of his cooling body only to meet and mix with Emily's. That would have been true justice.

Sneering at the cookies on the purple flowered tray his mother had brought him, he tried to decide what was to be done about the others who had been with that man in his house that night. Ethan was certain they hadn't seen anything incriminating because the police had asked him if he wished to implicate them in the blaze. He hadn't. They had nothing to do with him. It was simply their misfortune for befriending the man from the park that they had almost met with a fiery death. No, he would not have to worry about those two unless they became liabilities. He had more important things to think about. If nothing else, the night he ended Emily's life, Ethan had effectively started his own. The thrill of exacting true justice, of taking his life into his hands for the first time was a feeling of power he had never known. And because of it, there was nothing he couldn't do. Nothing he couldn't have and for the first time in his life, he wanted everything.


	12. Chapter 12 Acquiring Arcanum

* * *

Chapter Twelve – **Acquiring Arcanum**

* * *

"Is that for me?" Dean stared at the metal crutch the nurse was holding in her hands as she walked towards him. He knew the crutch was meant to aid him in walking, and the thought of having to use the piteous device was offensive. Shaking his head in response to her attempt to hand him the crutch, Dean refused. "No thanks. I don't need it." 

"That's what you say now." Ariel laughed. She knew how severe Dean's injury was, even if he didn't want to admit it himself. Despite the excellent work of the surgeons, he had been stabbed with a large piece of steel. He was lucky there was no nerve damage.

"I don't need it," Dean reaffirmed forcefully.

"Uh-huh," both the nurse and Ariel said in unison.

With a defiant look in his eyes, Dean shifted his legs off the bed, ignoring the protest of his injury. When he stood and placed his weight on his leg, he nearly buckled from the pain shooting up his thigh. Bracing himself on the bed, he looked at the crutch begrudgingly and tried to stand once more. When this second attempt at standing ended with his quick return to the bed, he snatched the crutch from the smirking nurse.

"I thought so," the nurse quipped as she turned quickly on her heels and headed towards the door.

"Hey wait! Could you call us a cab?" Ariel asked, noting the pain in Dean's expression. There was no way he would make it back to the car in his condition.

"Sure." The nurse tilted her head slightly before continuing, confusion clear in her voice. "But the closest motel isn't even a block from here."

Dean shook his head briskly. It had been a three days since the fire. Three whole days of his car sitting in a lot unattended. The thought was eating at him. If Sam had let anything happen to his car, Dean was going to kill him. "No, we need to head back to my car."

"Okay. But it would be a lot easier to take a bus." The nurse turned back to face the young couple as she spoke.

Ariel and Dean exchanged puzzled looks before they both asked, "Bus?"

"Yeah, you came in from North Bay."

"From? As in we aren't in North Bay anymore?" Ariel questioned.

"Sudbury."

"What?" Dean demanded. Trying to remember the name on the map of northern Ontario, he cursed. Sudbury was at least two hours from North Bay.

The nurse looked puzzled at Dean's surprise. "You were air lifted from North Bay straight here.

The shock that had gripped her mind the moment she heard that she was in Sudbury lifted as quickly as it had hit her as. Ariel leaped out of bed and started towards the door. Did Brooke know where she was? "I need to make a phone call."

"Sure, you can use the phone at the nursing station." The nurse pointed out the door and down the hall in the direction of the station.

Ariel bolted out of the room, nearly knocking down the nurse as she headed for the nursing station. Another nurse was sitting at one of the desks nested in the center of floor. She smiled at Ariel before saying, "Good afternoon Mrs. Warren. Do you need something?"

"Just need to make a quick phone call. Do you mind?" Ariel asked politely, but she was already reaching for the phone before the words left her mouth.

"Not at all." The nurse smiled and pushed the phone closer to the edge of the counter.

"Thanks." Ariel picked up the tan receiver and punched in the eleven digits that would connect her to Brooke. After ringing continually for a few moments a static drenched connection was made, allowing her to hear her sister's voice faintly in her ear. "Brooke?"

The line disconnected abruptly and the dial tone sounded loudly. The young nurse stared at Ariel for a moment wondering why the other woman looked so troubled. "Something wrong?"

Ariel looked at the dead line for a moment before she replaced the receiver on its base. "She hung up."

"Want to try again?"

"Nah. That'll just piss her off." Ariel knew that if her sister was mad enough to hang up on her then there was little point in calling back. She'd only repeat the process. Pushing the phone back across the counter, she tried to figure out why Brooke was so miffed. Brooke's vexation likely came from Ariel going back into the building without telling anyone. Brooke was insanely protective of her; Ariel knew that. Her big sister did not receive any actions on her part that put her in danger kindly. Dean had managed to breach the top of that list in record time. Ariel was about to call Sam's cell, but the last four digits eluded her. She had the number stored in her cell phone but hadn't actually dialled it yet. She decided to call him from the motel instead. Dean was sure to know the number.

-----

"Who was that?" Sam asked as he looked up from the file he had been scribbling in. Brooke's face was white as a sheet, her cell phone all but forgotten in her hand. Sam pushed the file back onto the bed before waving his hand in front of her blank blue eyes. "Brooke? What's wrong?"

As the shock started to drain from her system, tears quickly filled her eyes. Brooke swallowed hard, shaking her head, willing the tears away. When she finally spoke, the unshed tears that had suddenly appeared were gone. "That was Ariel."

"Thank god." Sam let out a sigh of a relief as he ran his hand through his hair. "Where is she?"

Brooke looked at the blank display screen on her phone. The only information the caller ID had given her was that the number was private. "I don't know."

"Is Dean with her?" Sam asked softly.

"I don't know." Brooke flung her phone onto the bed as she stood up. She started tearing through her bag, looking for the phone charger, cursing the weak battery of her phone as she fumbled with one of the zippers.

Sam watched Brooke fight with the metal tab of the fastener for a few moments before he reached for the bag, opened the zipper, and handed it back to her. He steadied her hand with his own before speaking reassuringly. "She called Brooke. So she's okay."

"I know." Brooke smiled slightly as the part of her mind that had feared the worst quieted down. Her sister was definitely alive. That knowledge was so heady it coursed through her head like a shot of hard liquor on an empty stomach, leaving her breathless. "She's alive."

-----

"Is there any particular reason they keep calling you my wife?"

Ariel started laughing at the bizarre question, shifting the two small hospital bags she was carrying before answering. "Your credit card."

"Huh?" Dean paused for a moment, leaning on his right side to alleviate the pain coming from his left leg. He was starting to regret his insistence on walking to the motel, but he wouldn't give Ariel the satisfaction of being right.

"Your credit card has the same last name as all my ID." Ariel watched Dean shift his weight, hiding his pain with a skilled poker face. She stopped herself from saying anything about the pain he was feeling and instead continued with her explanation. "I think they just assumed, and I didn't bother to contradict them. It worked out though. If they didn't think we were a couple we would have been in different rooms."

"God forbid," Dean quipped as he started moving towards the entrance of a small motel. "Mind telling me why I had to pay a hospital bill and you didn't."

Ariel reached for the front door, a smirk upon her face. "OHIP. Ontario Health Insurance Plan. Comes with being an Ontarian."

"You not Ontarian," Dean pointed out as he hobbled through the open door.

Ariel smiled. "According to my ID I am."

"Real cute," Dean muttered as he moved to the counter, looking up at the pimple-faced teenager sitting behind the checkout desk.

"Can I help you?" the blue haired stripling asked tonelessly.

Dean watched the young boy twist the metal choker around his neck with black painted fingernails. "Yeah. I need two Queens."

Popping his gum bubble before he spoke, the clerk smiled. "Fresh out. How about a king?"

"That's fine," Ariel answered the check-in clerk. Dean turned to face her with the oddest, most confused look on his face. "What?"

"That's fine?" Dean repeated, puzzled. He was pretty sure they had agreed to stay away from one another at the coffee shop only days before.

"Oh, give me a break. I can keep my hands off you for one night!" she snapped sarcastically. "Pay the man Kris."

"You folks from the hospital?" the clerk asked, looking at the pale green scrubs the couple were wearing.

Dean handed him a tatty MasterCard. "Sort of."

The clerk ran the credit card through a machine on the counter before sliding the receipt over to Dean to sign. As he spoke, he pulled a small room key from behind the counter and handed it to Dean. "Eight. Down to the left."

"Thank you." Ariel took the key from Dean's hand before smiling at the clerk and heading to the door, propping the door open long enough for Dean to move through.

Dean followed Ariel down the walkway towards their room. He spotted a small fish and chip shop down the corner and smiled. "Why don't you try Brooke again? I'm going to see if I can get us something to eat."

Ariel laughed as she shoved the metal key into the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open with her foot. "Reverse that and you got a deal."

"Huh?" Dean asked without moving through the open door.

Ariel glared at Dean through black lashes. The man was stubborn to a fault, and she wanted to throttle him for it. "I'll get something to eat. You stay off your leg and call Brooke and Sam."

"Ari-"

"No," Ariel interrupted before he had a chance to finish whatever excuse he had come up with. "It's bad enough you checked out before you should have."

"I hate hospitals," Dean said simply.

"Lay down!" Ariel ordered. She tossed the hospital bags containing their soot-covered clothes into the room before she turned and headed down the street in search of food. "I'll be back soon."

"Stubborn ass woman," Dean muttered as he limped into the motel room, shutting the door behind him before heading straight for the bed centered in the room. He was in too much pain to pay attention to the ill-chosen neon green patterned wallpaper and matching carpet. Once he settled himself on the black blankets, abandoning his crutch, Dean reached for the phone sitting on the nightstand, punched in a series of numbers, and waited for his brother to answer his phone. When Sam didn't answer he left a message that he then repeated into Brooke's voicemail before calling Sam again. The sooner one of them picked up the sooner they would come to pick them up. Though he was extremely worried about his car, it was more the thought of being alone in a room with Ariel for any length of time that had him worried.

Dean clicked on the television that was set on top of stand across the room, dumped his wallet on the nightstand, and headed for the small en suite bathroom.

The pain in his leg as he limped to the sink only made him more anxious. Someone had knocked him out. That thought repeated in his mind as he ran the cold water and splashed his face. It wasn't eight hours sleep, but it would have to do for now. Memories of the fire taunted him every time he closed his eyes. Dean reviewed each memory, eager to find out how he had been foolish enough to allow someone to sneak up on him. Like it or not, he had let his guard down. Dean cursed viciously at the bottom of the sink, kicking himself for being that sloppy. When he finished chastising himself for his mistakes, he thought about waking up in the smoke under the debris. Near death experiences never sat well with him. But he always found a way out of them. He had been lucky in that sense. Dean shut the faucet off and reached for a hand towel, scoffing at the black fabric trimmed in green.

The sound of gunplay on the television brought him out of the bathroom. He leaned himself against the door frame and watched the bullets flying over the screen without really seeing them. He couldn't get Ariel's comment out of his mind. She had saved his life. He knew it. There was no way he would have been able to free himself from the stake that had nailed him in place in the inferno. Sam and Brooke had already left the building when Ariel had come back for him. That knowledge had eaten at him for hours on end. She had found him the darkness. When he had questioned her she had said she had felt his pain. At the time he had been half out of his mind from oxygen deprivation and hadn't pushed the issue, but in the relative quiet of the motel room his brain was working just fine.

The sound of a key turning in the front door was followed by a breach of light and warm breeze as Ariel walked inside, kicking the door shut behind her. She took a few steps before her eyes adjusted and she spotted Dean braced against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching the television. She wasn't sure why, but the sight evoked a fierce unexplainable irritation to rise in her blood. He shouldn't be on his leg at all, not if he wanted it to heal at some point. She didn't need her empathic abilities to know standing on his leg was causing him pain. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Why do ask questions to which you already know the answer?" Dean smirked despite the gravity of his thoughts.

Ariel's brows furrowed in confusion at Dean's word choice before she recognised the phrase from a movie. She set the cans of soda she was carrying on the table across from the bed and by the time she turned back to face Dean she was smiling. "Are you watching _X-Men_?"

"Yep." Dean nodded in affirmation.

"Smart ass," Ariel muttered as she moved towards Dean, dangling a paper bag that cast a delicious aroma in front of him. "Here, got you your favourite."

Dean snatched the grease-stained light brown paper bag from Ariel's hand with a defiant smirk on his face and opened the bag just enough to whiff the luscious smell before speaking. "Junk food. Ah, you know me well."

"You can eat it in bed." Ariel smiled as she grabbed the bag back from Dean's grasp, skirted the bed, and placed the bag on the nightstand near its edge.

Dean used the nearby chair to steady himself as he walked towards the bed, careful not to let any of the pain that was shooting up his leg show on his face. "What is it with you?"

"You need to stay off your leg," Ariel answered simply as she settled onto one of the chairs by the table, fishing through one of the white hospital bags for a small orange pill bottle.

"Believe me, I've been through worse." Dean stopped just shy of the bed and faced Ariel, underscoring his words with a look of conviction.

"If any of what Sam has told me about the past two years is true, I believe you." Sam had spared no details in the amount of near misses with death they had had over the past few years. Watching Dean with emerald eyes, Ariel set her jaw in determination and pointed towards the bed. "Now get your ass in bed."

Dean complied only because the pain in his leg was begging him too, but he hated the look of satisfaction that swept across Ariel's face when he sighed in relief once his body lay against the mattress. "I left a message on Sam's cell letting them know where we are."

"Brooke didn't answer?" Ariel asked as she set the white capped pill bottle on the nightstand next to paper bag.

"Nope."

"She needs to get a new cell phone. The battery on that things sucks," Ariel mussitated as she walked back to the table, sitting down on one of the black vinyl chairs.

Dean laughed as he opened the takeout bag, letting the fragrant aroma of battered fish and chips entered his nostrils. Pulling the white Styrofoam container free of the bag, he spotted one of the cans of soda on the table and moved to get off the bed in an effort to retrieve one. The moment he shifted towards the edge of the bed Ariel grabbed one of the sodas and quickly stood, handing him the can as she spoke. "Dean, don't make me strap you to that bed."

Brushing her fingers with his own, he accepted the can with a wicked grin, his voice filled with something just shy of humour as he said, "Didn't know that was an option."

Ariel rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible!"

"You know it!"

"God help you," Ariel hissed as she returned to the table only to find her view of the television was hindered. She gathered her takeout bag and soda and walked over to the other side of the bed, setting everything on the nightstand before settling down on the shiny black fabric to stretch over the bed. "Who do they get to decorate these places?"

Dean bit into a piece of golden battered cod, chewing thoughtfully as he watched Ariel munch on some chips. Curiosity started eating away at him with each passing bite until he finally set his food aside on his lap and asked the question that was roving around his brain. "You know I didn't ask before because we weren't really alone, but that's not a problem right now. How did you find me?"

"Didn't I already answer that question?" Ariel asked gently, staring at the yellow crisp fries in her lap, trying to avoid looking at Dean. She hoped desperately that Dean wouldn't directly question her. She wasn't sure she would be able to lie to him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to.

When Ariel said nothing else Dean continued, determined to get a straight answer. "You said you could feel my pain. How?"

"I said hear." Ariel tried her best to cover her mistake and forced the dreaded poker face her father had taught her to blank her expression. With everything that had happened, the last thing she needed was for Dean to find out she was empathic. She wasn't sure she could handle his reaction. She didn't want the comfortable feeling between them to evaporate into unease and distrust. People didn't react well to people like her. She had seen the way people changed around her the moment they knew she could sense their feelings. They usually tried to gain as much distance from her as possible.

"You said feel," Dean corrected. Despite the poker face Ariel was wearing, her eyes were filling with something that looked a lot like fear. Though he hadn't intended to, he was hitting a nerve. A deep one, judging by the look in her eyes. "You seem to be very aware of other people's feelings."

Ariel swallowed hard against the dryness that suddenly overtook her mouth. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do," Dean said firmly.

For a brief moment Ariel wanted to blurt out the truth, to lay it all out on the table and see how the chips fell. That momentary lapse in sanity was quickly rejected by the thinking part of her brain. Denial was the most viable choice in this situation. "No, I don't."

"The funeral home. Did you honestly think I'd buy that crap story Brooke came up with? I mean, she's a top-notch prevaricator, but no one's that good. Panic attack my ass."

Clearly denial wasn't working. Ariel changed tactics. Direct confrontation was the next logical choice. "What are you really asking me Dean?"

Dean chewed on his fish pensively, choosing his words carefully. "Do you have…I can't believe I'm saying this…psychic abilities?"

Ariel sat utterly still for a long moment, weighing her options. She could try to deny it. There were plenty of ways to explain away her behaviour, none of them particularly good, but she could try. But when her eyes met his, the words she had been planning to say disappeared. "Yes."

"You're an empath." It wasn't a question. Dean had had a sneaking suspicion Ariel was hiding something for a while now. Her actions and comments frequently betrayed her secret. Given her background, he was hardly surprised. "About two years now?"

Ariel watched Dean warily, his question hitting a little to close to home to be serendipitous. Even for Dean. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess." It wasn't a total lie. Even though he had pieced things together, there was still a chance he could have been wrong. An extremely slim chance. Damn near anorexic.

"No such thing," Ariel pointed out as she studied his expression. Other than mild astonishment, there was no trace of apprehension or shock in his features, or distrust held in his voice. She had been preparing herself for him to freak out and demand to know exactly what and how much she was able to feel. Yet Dean had resumed eating as though nothing had happened. "You don't seem too surprised."

"Nothing surprises me anymore." Dean smirked, only half-joking. Surprise wasn't the word to describe what he was feeling. Gratitude maybe. Yes, gratitude for a gift and the woman who had saved his life. When he looked up from the Styrofoam container in his hands, there was no humour in his voice. "Thank you."

Ariel almost didn't believe she had heard him correctly until she saw the look in his eyes. "You're welcome."

-----

"Where is that beeping coming from?"

"My cell phone. I left it charging in here," Sam answered as he moved towards the nightstand and the claxoning cell phone that was alerting him to a new voice message.

"Rub it in," Brooke grumbled as she closed the door behind her. She placed her coffee down as she sat in one of the chairs by the desk and reached for the stack of photocopies across the table.

Sam listened quietly to his messages, both of which were from Dean. Relief washed over him when he heard his brother's voice. A smile crossed his lips as he turned to face Brooke. "You're never going to believe it."

"Believe what?" Brooke looked up from the papers in her hand, only mildly interested in the relief in Sam's voice. If it didn't fall into the categories of her sister or the ophidian ring, she didn't really want to hear it.

"That was Dean."

"Are you kidding me?" Dropping the papers in her hand, Brooke stared at Sam in complete disbelief. Three days without a single word from either sibling and then suddenly they both made contact within hours of one another?

Sam shook his head as a smile curved his lips once again. "They're together. In Sudbury."

"How the hell did they get there?" Sudbury was a good two hours from North Bay. Three or four from Red Bridge at least.

Sam shrugged. "Didn't say."

"Let's go." Brooke was out of her chair before the words left her lips. Once she made sure her sister was okay, she was going to kill her.

-----

Ariel yawned as the movie credits started to roll and turned away from the TV to face Dean. He was asleep. He had finally agreed to take the pain medication prescribed for him after several minutes of arguing between the two. She had starting to wonder if he acted obstinate just to entice a reaction from her. He was convinced the pills would reduce his alertness and it had taken her every ounce of patience in her body to get him to see that there was nothing wrong with reducing his cognition. Twenty or so minutes after he had taken the pills, the tight line of his jaw had started to ease and he had stopped biting back the pain that seemed to breach his unruffled exterior every time he moved. The man was bolshie to a fault, and Ariel couldn't help but smile as she leaned in to brush her lips over his forehead. Dean's eyes shot open at the contact, mocking the sleep that had held him moments before. He was so close she could see the green flecks in his hazel eyes.

"Movie over?" Dean ran his thumb along the curve of her lips, savouring the velvet texture, remembering the way her lips had felt pressed to his. But he did nothing more than caress her lips and trace the hollow beneath her cheekbone. He knew the sweet taste of her mouth, the way her hands roamed the sensitive part of his scalp. The sexy cry she made when his tongue caressed hers. Everything about her responses told him how good it would be to pull her into his arms and bury himself in the perfection of her body until neither one was the same again. It was that very knowledge that kept him from taking her mouth as completely as he wanted to ravish her body. He knew if he made love to her that would be it. He could barely get her off his mind as it was, and he had only kissed her. How much worse would it be if he knew the heat he was sure waited for him within her?

Dean was watching her lips intently as Ariel opened her mouth to answer his question and discovered she had forgotten it. She didn't need her empathic gift to know how much he wanted her. The same burning need of desire that was etched into his expression echoed her own. She wanted him in the same torturous way, like she had never wanted anyone in her life. Every part of her body screamed about how right this felt, yet her mind worked tirelessly to convince the rest of her that Dean was wrong for her. She should get up. Leave before the warmth of his body imprinted itself on to her memory. Black lashes closed against the pain that twisted inside her when she realised Brooke had been right. She was falling in love with him.


	13. Chapter 13 Rushed Reunions

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Chapter Thirteen – **Rushed Reunions

* * *

**

"Brooke…you're choking me!"

"You ever pull a stunt like that again and I will kill you myself, you understand me?" Brooke released her sister from her bone crushing hug before letting her gaze pass Ariel and settle on Dean. "Same goes for you Winchester!"

"Hey, don't look at me. I was in a coma," Dean muttered as he reached for the crutch propped up against the headboard. He wasn't planning on getting up, but if need be he would use the crutch to defend himself against the fire haired woman staring at him with contempt.

Brooke was about to go into a long speech about how worried she had been for their safety only to find them warm and cozy in a king sized bed, but the minute Dean reached for the crutch she calmed down. Dean had winced at the movement. He was injured. Eyeing him with an intensity that would have bothered a lesser man, Brooke studied the expression on his face. "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on? Where the hell have you been for the past three days, damnit?"

"Long story," Dean mumbled, seeing the fire in Brooke's eyes die as quickly as it had flared up. He breathed a sigh of relief; he wasn't in the mood to argue with her. There was only one thing he wanted more than sleep at this moment. It was black and beautiful and he was going to kick the shit out of his brother if he had left it in that parking lot. "Where's Sam?"

Sam poked his head inside the motel room at the mention of his name and smiled at Ariel before moving past Brooke to see his brother. "Right here."

"Where's my car?" Dean demanded.

Sam gave his brother a lopsided grin as he shook his head derisorily. Dean's concern for his car was a clear sign he was doing just fine, despite the crutch he was holding. "It's back at the motel."

Dean glared at his brother. "It better be in one piece."

"Are you finished?" Brooke clipped. She couldn't give a crap about the Impala. At this point, all she wanted was answers.

"Yes." Dean waved his hand dramatically before resting the crutch back against the headboard and leaning back into the pillows that were braced behind his back. "By all means, continue."

Ariel gestured for Sam and Brooke to take a seat as she closed the open door, preparing to explain her whereabouts for the past several days. "Come on Brooke, chill out. Take a seat and I'll fill you in. For starters-"

"For starters your sister saved my hide."

"Oh she did, huh?" Brooke couldn't hide her curiosity as she looked at the crutch braced against the headboard warily. Considering Dean was injured, her sister hadn't done a very good job. "Do tell."

"Some jerk-off knocked me out back there," Dean answered curtly. He still wasn't pleased that someone had managed to sneak up on him, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it now.

"At Ethan's?" Sam couldn't hide the shock that underscored his voice as he took a seat at the table across from his brother. Dean wasn't easily subdued and, judging by his tone, his brother was none too happy about it.

"Yeah." Dean's voice filled with discomfiture as he ducked his eyes. "When I came to the building was in flames and I was pinned to the ground."

Brooke hid her surprise with a cocky smile. "That's quite a bolt from the blue. You getting rusty on me there, Winchester?"

"Bite me," Dean sneered. He knew Brooke was going to have a field day with this.

Brooke's couldn't help but enjoy Dean's discomfort. Were the tables reversed and she had been in his shoes she'd be just as ornery. Neither of them accepted defeat in any form well. Patting his foot as she plopped down on the edge of the bed, she pointed to the bottle of prescription pills sitting on the nightstand and gibed loudly, "Easy there, boy. I think those pain meds are screwing with your brain. You know I'd leave teeth marks."

"Okay then." Ariel's face twisted into a look trapped between irritation and amusement as her eyebrows lifted. She crossed the room quickly to join Sam at the small table, shaking her head as she spoke. "We were in there for awhile. They air lifted us to the main hospital here for treatment. I didn't get a chance to call you guys until they released me."

"Us," Dean corrected stridently.

Ariel shot Dean a look meant to be as harsh as her tone. She was only mildly irritated over the situation, but she knew it wasn't Dean's checkout that was fuelling her frustration. Deciding in that instant that anger was the only feeling she would allow herself to express towards him, she reasserted her original statement. "Me."

"Um, did we miss something?" Sam asked, puzzled, watching the looks Ariel and his brother were exchanging openly. Irritation was too calm a word to describe the undercurrent coursing through the two of them.

Ariel brought her attention back to Sam and answered him in a clipped tone. "Dean checked out early. Against the doctor's recommendation. Too early if you ask me."

"We've been through this!" Dean threw up his hands in frustration. This woman was stubborn as hell when she wanted to be.

"I think the smoke screwed up your brain cells." Ariel glared at Dean before completely turning her chair to face Sam. "Your brother's an idiot."

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, but he ignored Ariel's comment, focusing on information he wanted to convey to Sam instead of the fight Ariel was trying to egg him into. "Not to change this riveting subject, but the room I found before I was knocked out, dude you should have seen it. The entire thing was a freaking shrine!"

"Ethan's wearing the ring," Brooke said to no one in particular.

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean snarled as he gestured towards his brother. "I thought stating the obvious was his job."

Sam shot Dean a fractious look before speaking. "We think the ring is being empowered or processed by-"

"Meretseger," Dean interrupted coolly.

Brooke was so completely floored, she shook her head with such force the clip in her hair fell out. "How did you-"

"Her mark was on everything in that room. I remembered reading about her when dad and I were chasing a cursed ankh," Dean said matter-of-factly. "Her story kind of stuck with me."

"What story?" Ariel was at a complete loss as she turned to face Dean. She had never heard of Meretseger and she didn't enjoy being left out of the loop.

"Snake goddess of silence. Liked to punish the greedy with her venom. Or blind them depending on the mood she was in." Running a hand through his hair Dean shrugged. "Why the hell she would empower this damn ring is beyond me."

"Devil's bargain. She gets the soul of the ring's wearer. In addition to a human sacrifice," Sam said nonchalantly. At this point he was more concerned with finding a way to get the ring off Ethan than why Meretseger had attached herself to it.

Dean cursed silently. Devil's bargains were tricky to break and had the tendency to bite you in the ass. "This gets better and better."

Brooke was quick to sweeten the pot with the information she and Sam had uncovered, shifting her attention from Dean to her sister alternately. "We figure that's why the place burned down. He killed a girl. Who we thought was you. They just determined the cause of death was stab wound to the heart. She never even breathed in the smoke. And since fire is symbolic of-"

"Whoa, whoa! I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Ariel interrupted, nearly choking on her words as they left her mouth.

Brooke looked puzzled for a moment as she mentally reviewed her comments before trying to clarify. "Emily Singleton died of-"

"No Brooke, about me."

"We thought she was you," Brooke said casually, careful to keep emotion out of her voice. If Ariel couldn't sense her feelings, she had no intention of letting her sister know how grief-stricken she had been when the hospital had told her about her sister's death. There was no way in hell Ariel would ever know how deeply her heart had broken at the news, and how she would have given anything to have her back.

Ariel tried to keep her voice calm as she spoke, though she knew she was failing terribly. "You thought I was dead?"

"She was brought in after the fire. We didn't see you make it out of the building. There were no records of you two making it out of that fire," Sam offered quietly when Brooke stayed silent, watching her boots rather than looking at her sister.

When Ariel said nothing in response to Sam's comment, Dean cleared his throat and tried to elucidate the situation coolly. "All our hospital records are here. They wouldn't have communicated anything back to North Bay."

"Yeah, we got that," Brooke muttered, not taking her eyes off the buckle of her left boot as she crossed it over the right. She could feel Ariel's eyes on her and she didn't like it one damn bit.

Ariel stared at her sister for a few moments before pushing back from the table and crossing her arms and legs in a gesture of sheer frustration. The reality of what had happened hit her hard as she watched Brooke avoid any eye contact with her. "You thought I was dead!"

"Come on, we can make it back to Red Bridge before sunset." Brooke sat up from the bed and was halfway through the door before she finished speaking. The sooner they got back to working on this case, the sooner she could focus on something other than the emotional aftermath of losing then finding her sister. "There's a lot to fill you two in on."

Dean couldn't help the puzzled look that etched his expression as he shifted his legs off the mattress and reached for his crutch. "You found something?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

-----

"Oh my god!"

Newspaper articles and computer printouts papered the walls. Every group of documents was about eye level, linked with little strips of paper connected together with tape, covered in writing. The room looked like a paper shedder blew up. Ariel turned away from the hand made wallpaper to face Sam and Brooke. "What the hell have you two been up to?"

"Connecting the dots," Brooke replied wryly.

Ariel looked at the walls again, silently wondering why they hadn't plastered Sam and Dean's room with the newsprint. Amazed, she started mentally tallying the hours of research this type of pattern took to document before speaking again. "You turned the entire room into a thought board?"

Sardonically Brooke murmured. "If that's what it takes."

"So where do we start?" Dean asked as he leaned on his crutch, looking over the paper littered wall. He wanted to sleep, shower, eat, and sleep again, but by the looks of the walls, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Sam pointed to the point of origin of their research. Every scrap of information they had dug up on Meretseger was pinned to that section of the wall. "Northeast corner."

"Naturally," Dean muttered as he hobbled over to the wall in question. He ignored the smell of permanent marker and copy toner coming from the pages and started reading. Ariel wasn't far behind him, and within a few hours they had both read through everything taped to the walls. Once he was caught up, Dean turned to Sam and Brooke with a firm-knit smile. "Nice work."

Ariel sat down on the edge of bed closest to her, pushing Sam's feet aside as she did. "So what's the plan? We're just going to try pulling the ring off?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a sheepish grin.

Ariel locked eyes with the shaggy haired brunette grinning at her. She knew she wasn't going to like where this was going at all. "And who's doing that?"

"Well he's met me and Brooke. And it's safe to say he knows what Dean looks like now," Sam explained quickly, hoping modal logic would override the disparaging look Ariel was giving him.

"I don't like where this is going," Ariel muttered begrudgingly. Nothing good was likely to come of this line of reasoning. The last thing she wanted to do was come face to face with Ethan Wallace. The idea of trying to separate the man from the ring was disconcerting, to put it mildly.

Brooke shifted in her chair before speaking. "You're the only one he hasn't encountered as of yet."

Ariel swore under her breath. She knew there was little choice in this matter, and it pissed her off even more.

"You'll just have to take a bullet for the team, Ari." Dean shot her one of his signature devil-may-care smirks.

Eyes narrowing into tiny slits of green that pinned Dean's, she sniped, "Bite me."

Dean knew Ariel wanted a fight. It was written in the line of her jaw. She'd been egging him on for hours, but he had no intention of giving her one. His smile widened wickedly as he winked jauntily. "Well, if you insist."

Cursing herself for leaving herself wide open and resenting the goose bumps that ensued in response to his expression, she clenched her fists. Hanging on to the irritation she felt like a lifejacket keeping her adrift, Ariel said something crude and unladylike before pushing off the bed and barrelling towards the front door. If running didn't curb her temper, she would have to try some target practice. Whatever she did, she wasn't going to spend another second with the arousing, arrogant, smartass who refused to give her the argument she'd been pressing for.

Brooke followed her sister out the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Ariel had been acting weird since they had been reunited, and Brooke couldn't account for the change in temperament. "Ari, what's going on?"

"Nothing. I just need a run," Ariel answered firmly as she stretched her legs in preparation for her sprint.

Brooke's hand wrapped around her sister's arm before she could bolt away. "Hey, I want to talk to you."

"So talk." Ariel eyed her sister carefully, but she didn't move away. There was a concern in Brooke's expression that was very trapping. But she had no intention of telling Brooke a thing.

When her sister didn't make an effort to run, Brooke released her. Her green eyes were lit with that stubborn determination that lined her lips. Brooke knew her sister wasn't going to tell her what had put the fire under her butt. Cooper determination wasn't exclusive to Brooke. Her sister was every bit as hard-headed as she was. Gesturing towards the parking lot with a smile, Brooke headed to her car hurriedly. "Come on."

Ariel followed her sister to the mustang, watching with a curious expression as Brooke opened the trunk and started searching through its contents until she emerged from the metal box holding two well used bows in one hand and a leather wrapped cylinder containing several arrows in the other hand.

"How about a little target practice?" Brooke watched the flat line of Ariel's mouth curve into a smile. Tossing one of the bows to her sister before shutting the trunk, Brooke smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Best two out of three?" Ariel asked teasingly as she trailed her sister out of the parking lot and into the forest adjoining the paved area. Of all the hunting skills she had been forced to acquire over the years, archery was her favourite.

"Sure thing sis." Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she continued walking. She didn't like the idea of sending her sister in alone with a murderer, but she knew there was no other choice. "But like it or not, first thing tomorrow you're going banking."

-----

"Can I help you?"

Ariel turned around quickly, sending her hair cascading over the pink peasant blouse she was wearing. Despite the pit that had settled in her stomach the moment she had walked into the North Bay City Bank, a smile curved her lips as she answered the older woman's question politely. "Yes. I'm here to see Mr. Wallace."

The older woman eyed Ariel with a curious expression. In the years she had worked there no young women, or men for that matter, had come in and asked for Mr. Wallace by name. Raising her greyed eyebrows, she leaned into her desk and inquired softly. "Regarding?"

"Mutual funds." Ariel increased the intensity of her smile, knowing the calming effect it would have on the other woman. She could sense the puzzlement that was coursing within her subside almost instantaneously.

"Of course. You can wait in his office." The woman pointed down the taupe hallway towards a door with the words Investment Advisor written in black block print on it. Ariel smiled her thanks and started down the corridor, easing her brown pencil skirt down as she pushed the metal door to Ethan Wallace's office open. Just before she stepped inside, the receptionist called out to her. "He should be right in."

Closing the door behind her, Ariel noticed the dreary office was painted in the same nauseating taupe and grey that clung to the wallpaper and carpeting in the rest of the bank. The room had no windows, its only light source being the fluorescent bulbs that checker boarded the ceiling. Ariel walked past the two small chairs that were sitting in front of the grey metal desk in the center of the room and studied the contents of three large maple bookcases. More art books mixed in with books about investments, and a few large volumes regarding mutual fund analysis manuals. As her eyes swept over the room, one thing stuck out in her mind. There were no pictures, no memorabilia of any kind. She hadn't paid that much attention to the lack of person touches when she had been in his house, but it struck her as odd, given the depressing colour scheme of the bank, that Ethan would choose not to brighten up his office space. She was about to take a seat in one of the taupe chairs beside her when a set of chills raced up her spine. The feeling was something indescribable. Like being dipped into a liquid fire, only to be dunked into a vat of ice water the next instant. The feeling threw her off balance until she realized the cause. Evil.

The office door swung open as a tall, ash-haired, clean-shaven man wearing silver-framed glasses stepped inside. The man from the park.

"You!" Ariel eyes swept over the man's slender frame until they glued to his hand. The ring's brilliant red ruby eyes glimmered at her, instantly identifying the source of the hot and cold feeling she was picking up.

"Me," Ethan said quietly as he shut the door behind him. "So you're interested in mutual funds are you?"

"Changed my mind. No sense planning for the future at my age. Sorry to waste your time." It took Ariel exactly three seconds to cross the room and reach for the door handle. There was no way she was going to stay in that room alone with the guy who had grabbed her in the park, the same guy who had killed Emily Singleton in cold blood, and had left Dean to die in a fiery grave. No chance in hell. The moment her hand touched the cold metal of the door knob she was over come with feelings of rage. Ariel started kicking herself mentally for allowing her apprehension to override her logic. She was here to do a job, and she had just successfully managed to piss off a cursed murdered. Before she had a chance to release the metal handle, his arms snaked around her. Two firm hands encircled her wrists, nearly crushing them with a strength that surprised her more than the pain that rushed up her arms. Within the space of a breath, Ariel found herself several feet from the door. With a speed that came with years of hunting she evened her breath and stopped struggling, knowing any fear she showed would only entice and empower her captor. With a calm she didn't feel, she forced the words through clenched teeth. "Get your hands off me."

"Or what?" Ethan sneered bitterly against Ariel's ear. "Where's your little boyfriend now?"

Panic quickly evaporated into a heated anger. Ariel leaned back just enough to look over her shoulder and stare into Ethan's piercing blue eyes as she asked. "You don't actually think I need him to protect me, do you?"

"It sure looks that way from where I'm standing," Ethan answered smugly.

"Really?" Ariel twisted her right arm in a deft move that loosened his grip on her wrist, allowing her to bring her arm back across her chest. Before Ethan could re-establish his hold on her, Ariel's elbow connected with the sensitive cartilage under his nose. When his nose broke, Ethan clasped his face, moaning in pain. Ariel turned around and kneed the son of bitch in the groin with all her might. He hit the ground with a force that screamed how much pain he was in. Ariel cocked her head to the side with a smile on her face that could only be described as cocky before she bent down just enough to whisper. "So how's it looking from down there?"

Ariel pat Ethan's ashen hair derisorily, balled up her fist, and knocked him out cold with a solid right hook. Wincing in pain, she cupped her hand and muttered, "Men!"

Crouching over Ethan's limb body, Ariel took hold of the ophidian ring, trying to pull the golden object off his hands. It wouldn't budge. Reaching into her brown leather bag for a small vile of massage oil, she screwed off the black cap and poured the slippery liquid over his ring finger. Making sure the oil covered the ring; she began to yank on the ring, twisting it back and forth, trying to move it off his finger. After a few minutes and the entire vile of oil later Ariel was frustrated and cross. The sound of people gathering in the bank made her abandon her task. Ariel bolted out the office door, making her way down the corridor swiftly, averting her eyes from the reception desk as she headed for the front entrance. Forcing her way through the line forming by the glass doors, she exited the bank and paused long enough to pick up the scent of coffee. Using her nose as her guide, she started walking towards the scent. Brooke's laughter carried through the parking lot acting like a beacon. Ariel cleared her throat loudly, "Hey guys."

Brooke looked past Sam's wide smile, shifting off the hood of her Mustang so she could see her sister moving towards them. "Did you get it?"

"No," Ariel said quietly, wishing she had a different answer to offer. "The ring won't come off."

"That's just great!" Brooke cussed angrily. She tossed her coffee cup to the pavement and stormed off out the parking lot, bitching the whole way.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get her." Sam tapped Ariel's hand softly, handed her his coffee cup, and started after Brooke, folding the honey striped shirt he was wearing into cuffs above his elbows. Judging by the speed she had marched out of the parking lot at, she was pretty pissed off. Moving through the sparse parking lot, Sam lengthened his strides in hopes of closing the gap between him and the fiery redhead. Despite the early hour, there was no shortage of people rushing down the sidewalks on their way to work. Sam cut through some hedges lining the sidewalk of the busy street, searching the scattered crowds on the walk for a woman in an indigo poncho and jeans. Several blocks later Sam spotted her in front a red newspaper box. He jogged across the street, thankful he had managed to catch up with her, when he saw that Brooke wasn't moving. She was starring at the paper pinned to the glass of the display case.

"You okay?"

Brooke's eyes never left the paper in the window, but they filled with rage, and something else Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. Raking her hands through her hair angrily, Brooke scoffed at the newspaper before answering Sam. "I should have shot the bastard when I had the chance."

Sam followed Brooke's gaze down to the bright newspaper box. Reading the headline made him sick. _North Bay City Stabber strikes again._ Reaching into his jeans, Sam retrieved the change in his pocket. Shovelling several quarters into the slot and opening the glass to retrieve a newspaper, Sam hoped desperately that there was no connection to Ethan, but he knew deep in his gut that wasn't likely. Though he could not be certain, it appeared that Ethan's desires leaned more towards mutilation than wealth or power. Emily Singleton may have been Ethan's first victim, but she had not stayed his last. Before he could finish scanning the article for clues, a group of squad cars, sirens blaring, sped down the street toward the bank. Sam looked at Brooke and without saying a word, the two started racing back in the direction of the bank.

-----

"I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"What?" Dean straightened slightly, placing his empty coffee cup on the hood of his car as he calmly asked, "What are you trying to tell me?"

Ariel rolled her eyes dramatically; making sure the frustration in her voice was evident as she sniped, "If you would shut the hell up long enough for me to tell you, you'd know already wouldn't you?"

"I'm sensing some serious animosity here." Dean crossed his arms over the grey t-shirt he was wearing under his scarlet cotton shirt. He had spent most of the morning and all of last night trying to avoid the fight Ariel was determined to have with him. He was getting really sick of playing defence. If she wanted an argument, she was going to get one.

Ariel moved off the hood of the Impala in one heated move, turning on her heels to face the source of her vexation. Dean had a smug grin on his face, as though he was enjoying her fluster. His expression annoyed her more than any words could have. "You bet your ass."

"You've been trying to pick a fight with me since we left Sudbury," Dean stated matter-of-factly, watching the way Ariel braced her hands on her hips in agitation. It wasn't going to take much prodding on his part to get her to vent whatever was eating a hole through her. "What the hell put your knickers in a knot?"

The choler in her blood ignited as she spoke through her clenched jaw, "Well for starters, your thick ass skull."

"And what exactly did I do?" Dean uncrossed his arms melodramatically, holding out his hands in question as he raised his eyebrows. "By all means, please enlighten me."

"You're reckless and narking and-"

Dean cut across her words with an ease that he knew would only enrage her further as he voiced his interjection, "And you're compulsively obsessive. What's your point?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Ariel shouted.

"So what? Why do you care anyway?" Dean shot back hotly. He wasn't a hundred percent sure what the reason for Ariel's hostility was, but he was starting to get a good idea. Nevertheless, her avoidance of the real issue was starting to try his patience.

"You're mistaking my mode of declaration for some sort of concern," Ariel said promptly, realising at once that this conversation was heading into a direction she hadn't foreseen. She rallied every ounce of pugnacity she had within her to be as venomous as possible. "I don't give a rat's ass-"

Dean's shook his head vigorously as he started talking over Ariel's falsities in a tone that was as piercing as the flecks of green intensifying his eyes. "You're a damn liar, you know that? You want to be pissed at me, go right ahead. But don't you think for one second I don't see right through this."

"See through what?" Ariel demanded harshly.

"Let's just cut through the bull. Why are you really pissed?" Dean asked provokingly. "Cause it sure as hell has nothing to do with anything I've done."

Ariel's fury made her eyes unbelievably vivid as she backbit, "Screw off!"

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Truth starting to wear a little thin on the nerves?" Dean demanded, chivvying her with every word and gesture.

"Go to hell!"

"Come on Ari!" Dean chided. If he was right, she wouldn't take this any further than it had already gone. As he continued, his tone changed from gruff to placid. "You wanted a fight so damn bad. Here's your chance."

Ariel glared at him but said nothing. She didn't trust herself to speak just now. Her hands had clenched into fists digging into the waistband of her skirt as though she was trying to indent her own skin. She fought to hold on to the anger that was all she had safeguarding her heart. The knowledge that one fragile emotion was her only protection petrified her.

Dean watched Ariel's face as recognition washed over him. Anger was still sheathing her expression, but there was something else underscoring her oculuses. Looking away from her emerald eyes to study the worn patch on his jeans, Dean averred evenly, "You're not mad at all. You're scared shitless."

"Stop it," Ariel whispered, shutting her eyes against the stinging truth. Scared did not even begin to cover what she was feeling.

Dean looked up from the fraying denim on his thigh and asked, "What are you so afraid of?"

"What do you want from me Dean?" Ariel asked imploringly as she opened her eyes. She didn't meet Dean's gaze, she knew the inquiry held in his eyes would burn as sorely as his question had.

Dean answered simply, "Nothing."

"Now who's the liar?" Ariel queried softly. She bit down on her bottom lip with an intensity that broke the sensitive flesh caught between her teeth.

She was right and Dean knew it. And it took every single ounce of strength he had not to get up, pull her into his arms, and kiss her until neither of them had the strength to speak. "Who are we trying to kid here?"

For a long time neither spoke. The silence collected between them as thickly as smoke. The world seemed to narrow until only they remained, so temptingly close, yet so achingly far apart. When Ariel looked up to meet Dean's unwavering stare, the safe veil of anger she had wrapped herself in dropped away as though it had never existed. Her brain knew every single reason getting involved with Dean Winchester was insanity personified. Yet every time she turned around that is exactly what she did. He was completely wrong for her in every possible way, and she had never wanted anyone the way she wanted him.

"None of this was supposed to happen," Ariel whispered, watching Dean with eyes that said more then she wanted to say. When his hand came around hers, drawing her closer, she didn't pull away. She welcomed the warm coaxing weight of his other hand caught in her hair, drawing her towards his intoxicating lips. She felt the warmth of his breath rush out over her mouth before his tongue gently traced the cut on her lip.

Dean cupped her cheek in his palm, angling her face so he could deepen the kiss. Ariel sighed against his lips, granting him the freedom he had silently requested. He claimed her mouth with a thoroughness that dragged a moan from deep within her chest. The sound of approaching sirens made him release her instantly. Two squad cars bearing the letters O.P.P. in bright orange block print pulled into the parking lot, surrounding the Impala in a hurried cloud of wailing sirens and flashing white and red lights. Moving as though it were a matter of life and death, the four police officers exited their cars, guns drawn.

"What the hell?"

"Don't move! You're under arrest under section eighty-three of the criminal code," an officer called over as she unsnapped the leather strip holding her handcuffs securely.

"You've got to be kidding me! For what?" Dean demanded, stupefied.

"Breaking and entering with intent, arson in the first degree, two counts of kidnapping in the first degree, attempted manslaughter in the second-degree and two counts of murder in the first-degree. Miss, please step aside," one of the officers gently urged Ariel away from Dean as the first officer helped him up into a standing position before twisting his arms behind him deftly and slapping a set of cold metal cuffs around his wrists. "You need not say anything. You have nothing to hope from, any promise or favour, and nothing to fear from any threat whether or not you say anything. Anything you do say may be used against you as evidence."


	14. Chapter 14 Proper Precognition

* * *

Chapter Fourteen – **Proper Precognition**

* * *

"Do you wake up in the morning and think to yourself, 'gee I think I'll go get arrested today'?"

Dean looked up from the crack in the wall he had been studying for the past hour. Brooke was standing just inside the doorway to his small interrogation room, arms crossed over her poncho with a look on her face that clearly stated how much she was enjoying his predicament. "Very funny Brooke!"

"What happened to you?" Brooke eyed the small gash hidden just beneath Dean's hairline as she moved into the room. She pressed the pad of her thumb over the cut, glad to find that there was no transference. The blood had stopped flowing awhile ago. He was fine. Brooke laughed to herself. The last time Dean had been arrested around her he had managed to piss off his arresting officers just enough to have them walk his head into the side of their squad car.

Dean flashed Brooke a knowing smile. "Apparently I was resisting arrest."

"Couldn't have resisted too hard. You're still in cuffs," Brooke pointed out tauntingly, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him. She crossed her ankles over her brown leather boots and smiled.

When Brooke didn't move to release him from his cuffs, Dean's aggravation over the whole situation shot through him and he sniped, "Don't just sit there. Help me, dammit!"

"I'd love to honey, but I don't have any cuff keys. And I seriously doubt officer tight ass is just going to let me borrow them." Brooke leaned forward to get a glimpse of the shiny metal handlocks. By the looks of them, they were single lock cuffs, fairly easy to pick, if she had something to pick them with of course.

"Improvise!"

Brooke shrugged nonchalantly, looking around the sparsely decorated room. Grey walls, neon lights, a table, two chairs and a giant walled two-way mirror completed the inventory. "With what?"

"Paper clips, bobby pins, earrings. Anything!"

"Alright, alright! Keep your panties on! I got an idea." Brooke beamed as she shifted off the table, opened the door and reached into the hallway, yanking her sister into the room.

"Brooke, what the heck are you doing?"

"You wearing a bra?" Brooke smiled cleverly as she twitched her eyebrows suggestively.

Ariel's eyes nearly popped out of her skull when she realized what her sister's intentions were. "Are you kidding me?"

Brooke shook her head in answer. "Nope."

"Use yours!"

"I don't have an under wire," Brooke said coolly, only mildly regretting her choice in undergarment today. At the very least her choice had saved her from ruining a perfectly good bra.

"No!"

Brooke smiled cheekily at her sister before winking. "Improvise Air-bear."

"Bite me!" Ariel snapped bitterly.

Dean watched in amazement as Ariel reached behind her back, unsnapped the clasps of her bra, worked her hands up the sleeves of her blouse, and pulled the shoulder strap off one arm before sliding the other strap off and through her blouse. When she was finished the button pink bra dangled off her extended index finger like a pendulum. Dean cleared his throat, and with a wicked grin, commented on the mesmeric scene he had just witnessed. "Okay, that right there…that's impressive."

Ariel rolled her eyes, grumbling something under her breath about Dean being perverted, while Brooke whacked him up side the head loud enough for the sound to echo in the tiny enclosed space.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

Brooke's eyebrows matted quickly as she questioned, "Which part of 'my sister's off-limits' wasn't clear?"

"I didn't do anything!" Dean protested loudly. How could she accuse him of crossing lines while he was sitting there handcuffed to a chair?

"You were thinking about it," Brooke muttered. "Come on let's get this over with."

Ariel made a pained sound as she held out the strap of lace, knowing that once the wire was removed from the garment it would never be completely functional again. Brooke snatched up the lacy fabric, made a small incision at the top of the wire cup and shimmied the fabric down the wire, ignoring her sister's sounds of displeasure at the mutilation of her favourite undergarment. Brooke shaved the protective coating off the tip of the wire with her pocket knife. After examining her handy work, Brooke smiled. "Oh yeah. This'll work."

"Too bad. I kind of like him shackled. A shame they didn't gag him too." Ariel smirked as she returned to her post by the door, listening carefully for any approaching footsteps.

"True. What a pity." Brooke laughed as she twisted the metal wire around in the key hole of Dean's cuffs. When a soft click sounded in the room, Brooke smiled widely, dropped the metal wire, and moved towards the exit, looking out the door before heading into the hallway, mindful of onlookers. "We're out of here."

Dean twisted his wrists, letting the metal cuffs hit the floor as he stood. Instead of rushing out the open door, he bent behind the chair he had be sitting in, retrieving two objects from the floor. As he limped towards Ariel, he took the wire and slid it back into its lace container, returning the bra with a wicked grin. "There, good as new."

"I wish." Ariel grabbed the fabric quickly and shoved it in her back pocket as she turned away, knowing full well the wire would forever pop out at extremely inconvenient times.

"Tell me, do you do private showings?" Dean asked teasingly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, under the guise of using her as a crutch.

"Oh, you liked that did you?" Ariel smiled seductively, leaning into Dean's strong shoulders, close enough she could have kissed him. "Well I hope you enjoyed the show. Cause that's the closest you're ever going to get."

"Is that so?" Dean licked his lips and smiled from ear to ear as anticipation sent shivers up his spine. There were few things in the world he enjoyed more than a good chase. He was certainly going to get one. Not that had expected any less.

"Yeah, that's so." Ariel couldn't help but wonder why a flat out refusal would incite that kind of grin. Dean's feelings of exhilaration and anticipation didn't match up with her recent declaration in the slightest. "Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, you know me. I love a challenge."

-----

"How are your wrists?"

Dean absently started rubbing his wrists, thankful that he was in the comfort of the motel and not a holding cell as he answered, "Sore."

"Surprising," Ariel japed as she pulled a small bottle of alcohol out of her duffel bag, along with some cotton balls and bandages. "You remember that guy from the park?"

"That beady-eyed little freak? How could I forget?" Dean's eyebrows matted as he spoke. He kicked off his boots before bringing his legs up on the bed and stifled a groan, looking at the small bottle of prescription pills Ariel had tossed to him a few minutes ago. He was in pain, but he had no intention of openly admitting to it.

Sam stopped typing instantly, turning away from the laptop he had been working on, and looked at his brother in question. "Whoa, what guy in the park?"

"Some nut tried to pick her up. Didn't accept no as an answer." Dean looked at the pills one last time before crossing his arms behind his head as a pillow.

Ariel placed the items in her hand on the nightstand before she sat next to Dean on the bed. "And if memory serves, you twisted his wrist. Literally."

"Yep." Dean nodded his head in affirmation. He didn't shift on the bed to allow Ariel more room; he was too busy watching her with a puzzled expression. She had uncapped a bottle of alcohol and was drenching a cotton ball in the cold liquid. "What exactly are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" Ariel asked, somewhat taken aback by the question. She thought it was painfully clear what she was doing. She lifted the cotton ball to Dean's head, but he moved away before she could press the wet cotton to his cut. After another failed attempt she braced his chin in her palm. "Would you stop moving please?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned back to the computer, deciding to ignore the couple as Dean continued his half-hearted efforts to avoid the cotton ball Ariel was determined to get him with. When she finally won out, Dean feigned an injured sound and was rewarded with an annoyed expression from Ariel. Rolling her eyes as she cleaned his wound, she quickly replaced the cotton ball with a bandage before he could complain any further and continued her previous line of thought. "Well, that beady-eyed little freak was Ethan."

"Shit, that was Ethan?" Dean sat up instantly, concern filling his voice as he asked, "Why didn't you say something at the car?"

"I tried! Remember?" Ariel asked, utterly roiled. Then she thought about it for a second and added quickly, "Besides, if those had been my very first words Brooke would have marched straight into that bank and shot him. She already wants to kill him."

"She's not the only one." Dean's nose wrinkled as he muttered under his breath. When Ariel shot him a warning look, he stopped thinking about the twenty-eight in the trunk and went back to the conversation he was having. "That explains why he wanted you so bad. Why he tried to snatch you in the park at least."

"What?" Ariel asked, slightly startled at the connection Dean was making.

Dean looked at his brother while he asked, "Didn't he need a sacrifice for that night?"

"You think he wanted to sacrifice her?" Sam inquired as he turned back to face Dean.

Dean nodded. "She fits the bill. Similar build and stats to Emily Singleton and Raleigh Marshal."

"Athanasia Milos too," Sam lamented quietly as he looked down at the young woman's picture in the North Bay Nugget. Unlike most of the ring wearers whose desires led to them gaining financial or social power, it appeared Ethan's desires were far more morbid in nature. Who would have thought the ring could have triggered spree killing?

Ariel cringed at the thought of being a potential victim and she stood, walked to the table, and grabbed some gauze out of her bag. She returned to her spot on the bed, exchanging the gauze for a bottle of water which she forced into Dean's hands before popping the pill bottle open and handing him two white pills bearing the number three on one side. "Should I take it as a compliment that he wanted me to be his sacrificial goat?"

"Well I guess that depends." Dean shrugged and went to place the pills back on the nightstand.

Ariel's hand covered Dean's swiftly and she leaned into his ear so her whisper didn't carry any further. "Take them. You're starting to give me a headache."

Dean made a cranky sound before he popped the pills into his month and drank them down with the water. Ariel smiled her thanks and started cutting the gauze on the nightstand into neat squares. Dean decided not to ask what she was doing and went back to their original conversation, ignoring the quizzical look his brother was giving him. "So that little jerk-off knocked me out, huh? Damn, I am getting rusty."

"And he got you arrested, but who's counting?" Sam smiled brightly, knowing how chafing the comment would be to his brother.

Dean screwed up his face as he glared at his little brother. It was pissing him off how much Sam was enjoying this. "Thanks."

"Alright, take them off." Ariel set the scissors she was holding down on the nightstand along with the last square of gauze as she got off the bed and looked at Dean with a solemn expression.

Dean's eyebrows matted in uncertainty as he asked, "Take what off?"

"Your pants." Again Dean's bafflement was vaguely discombobulating for Ariel. When he didn't respond, she cocked her head to the side and huffed, "Come on, I don't have all day."

"Are you serious?" Both Dean and Sam asked in unison, disbelief ringing clear in their voices.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Sam shook his head, certain he had misheard her, but when she stayed perfectly still with her hands on her hips, he realised she was completely serious. Sam was quick to stand up from the chair he had been parked in for the past half hour. "Okay, I'm going now."

"Relax Sam, it's not like I'm going to jump your brother right in front of you!" Ariel rolled her eyes impatiently, shaking her head she pointed to the patch of blood that had formed on Dean's jeans. "He's bleeding. I'm just going to change his dressing and check his stitches, you pervert."

"Uh-huh." Sam smirked, grabbed his laptop, and made a bee-line for the door. "Have fun."

"Your brother's a freak," Ariel criticized, her tone more offended than harsh.

Dean gave her a stunned look. "You just noticed this?"

-----

"Sam?"

Sam looked up from the laptop he had been working on and was instantly greeted with a pair of querying blue eyes. "Hey."

"Is there any particular reason you're in the parking lot?" Brooked asked, puzzlement in her eyes. When she left for the Silver Spoon everyone had been in her motel room.

"Trust me; you do not want to go in there right now."

"I don't? Why not?" Concern quickly filled Brooke's voice. "What's going on?"

Sam ran his hand through his hair, scratching his head as he thought of the best way to explain what Ariel and Dean were up to. "Well your sister is playing doctor and my brother is probably the most willing patient she's ever going to get."

"Oh brother! And you left them alone?"

"Hey it's not like I wanted to see that!" Sam exclaimed as he shut the laptop, got off the car, and headed after Brooke.

Brooke shifted the white paper takeout bags she was holding to one hand and forced the door open with her other, completely prepared to kick Dean's ass if necessary.

The flood of sunlight into the room made Ariel look up from the gauze she was positioning on Dean's thigh. "Hey Brooke. Did you get me any onion rings?"

"Yeah I did." Brooke laughed as she looked past her sister to Dean's face. "You okay there?"

"Super," Dean lied through his clenched teeth. Despite Ariel's gentle hands, this was hardly an enjoyable experience. When Brooke sat some of the takeout bags on the table and started opening containers of food, Dean made a disappointed face. "Coop, you're timing sucks, you know that?"

"Does it?" Brooke asked as she handed Sam a styrofoam carton before taking a seat at the well-worn table.

Dean simpered rakishly and he nodded. "I was about to get a physical."

Brooke gave Dean a look that made her eyes turn as icy as winter itself and Sam coughed over his laughter in his palm before the pair started discussing this morning's events.

"In your dreams." Ariel laughed at the blue joke, strapping the last piece of tape over the edge of the gauze carefully.

Dean smiled beguilingly, but didn't let his voice carry past Ariel. "Every night."

"Dean." Ariel shot him a warning look, hoping he didn't feel the shiver that ran up her spine. She decided that Dean's smile should be illegal in at least thirty-six countries.

"Relax." Dean wiped the smile off his face artlessly, replacing it with a sincere expression that Ariel didn't seem to buy as he added casually, "You were very good."

"Sorry for the wake-up call, dream boy, but you better put your pants back on." Ariel smiled sweetly, patted Dean's leg just enough to make him wince, and stood up. "We're done here."

"Dream killer."

-----

"If you don't stop it, I'm pulling over."

Dean glanced over at Ariel's miffed expression. He had purposely been irritating her for the past couple of hours for sheer enjoyment. Not only was the agitated flush that darkened her cheeks extremely attractive, but he was mildly repaying her for the chafing she had put him through the day before. His only motives were a desire to entertain himself during the long boring drive to Jacko Point rather than any sort of malice on his part. When the serious line of her mouth curved upward despite her determined efforts to keep it from doing just that, Dean raised one of his eyebrows curiously as a smirk crossed his face. "Is that a threat? Cause I'm pretty sure the promise of sexual favours is more like a bribe."

"Who said anything about sex?"

Dean's smirk grew into a full on smile as he chuckled iniquitously. "Why else would you pull over?"

Ariel wasn't exactly sure when the tension that had settled between them had died out, returning to this shameless flirting that always seemed to bubble through her blood, leaving her mind to dwell on thoughts best reserved for slumber. No, she wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, but she couldn't say she was unhappy it had. Dean, sensing Ariel's distracted thoughts, swiped her coffee cup, drinking the tepid liquid before she noticed the absence of her coffee from the cup holder. Forcing the simper off her face, she spoke threateningly, "You know what, that's it. I've had it!"

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots." Dean continued laughing, enjoying the hints of amusement that slipped into her tone when she wasn't aware of it. Ariel wasn't nearly as irritated as she was pretending to be.

Ariel's eyes narrowed as she glanced away from the open road to shoot a heated expression at Dean. "You know, I don't know why I even let you come!"

"Because you'd be an idiot to go by yourself. And you're no idiot." The playful look in Dean's eyes faded instantly as his mind refocused on the reason for their drive. He still wasn't sure driving out to Mrs. Wallace's was a good idea given what had happened with Ethan this very morning. But Ariel was determined to go, and Dean had no intention of letting her run off by herself. So he had grudgingly piled himself into the passenger seat of Brooke's Mustang before Ariel could drive off without him.

Ariel chewed on her lip nervously for a moment and thought about Dean's words. In all respects but one she was an extremely practical person. The one exception was sitting next to her in the car, tapping his fingers in rhythm to the drums and bobbing his head to the bass line of Bob Segar's _2+2?_ blaring from the car's speakers. "The jury's still out on that one. But I'm surprised you didn't stay with Brooke and plot your 'let's just shoot the son of bitch' plan!"

"We'll have time for that later." Dean shrugged casually, then thought about Sam and Brooke back at the motel. "Besides, if I stayed I would have had to help pack. Where's the fun in that? But to tell you the truth, I don't know how much good this is going to do."

"It's just a feeling in my gut, you know? Every mother knows her son. Maybe we just missed something." Ariel hit the signal indicator and moved off the so called highway that connected Jacko Point with Red Bridge, turning onto the gravel road that would lead to the Wallace house.

"Like what? The dude's a freak! I'm not so sure there's a deeper meaning here, Ari." Dean stared at Ariel for a moment in disbelief. Why did there need to be a deeper meaning? Couldn't the fact that Ethan was killing people be enough? Some people were just crazy, pure and simple. "He likes to kidnap, torture, and kill women. Three that we know of so far."

"But that's not a desire," Ariel pointed out quietly as she rested her right arm on the open windowsill of Mustang, enjoying the purr of a true American classic. She doubted Brooke and her would get along as well as they did on the long drives cross-country if it weren't for this car. She could completely understand why her sister loved the Mustang so much. And judging by the smooth ride of the Impala, there was little question in her mind that Dean felt the same for his car.

Dean gave Ariel a puzzled expression, his brows furrowing as he spoke, "Yeah it is. The desire to take life. And you say I don't pay attention!"

Ariel rolled her eyes and gripped the steering wheel with unnecessary force as she made a frustrated sound. "That's not what I mean. That's not a real connection to the ring. Before Ethan got the ring he never hurt anyone. Then boom, he gets the ring and he's a fledging serial murderer? I'm just saying there has to be a desire motivating these killings."

"There is. Revenge. Your boy had a crush on Emily, she didn't respond...bye-bye Emily. Raleigh worked with the freak; maybe she wasn't too friendly at the water cooler." Deep in Dean's gut he knew that, regardless of Ethan's motives for killing, he was going to continue until something or someone stopped him. The sooner Ariel and Sam accepted that cold hard fact, the better it would be for everyone involved.

"And Athanasia?" Ariel asked impatiently. Dean may not need the why answered, but she did. In all likelihood, he and Brooke were probably right, they would most likely have to kill Ethan and destroy the ring, but she wanted to understand why he was doing what he was doing. If she understood the why maybe they could find a way of stopping Ethan without the aid of shotgun.

Dean shrugged fluently. He honestly had no idea why the thirty-one year old florist had been so unlucky as to meet with an early death at the hands of a psychopath. "I don't know. But we should be asking around, trying to find out, instead of visiting Mommy Dearest. Why are you so sure she knows something anyway?"

"I don't know. But I just found it odd, you know? He doesn't have a single photograph in his office or in his home. Nothing. And at his mom's there were plenty of pictures of Erin. I only saw one of Ethan." Ariel started chewing on her bottom lip as the wheels in her mind turned rapidly, trying to put her finger on the feeling that had troubled her about Mrs. Wallace and her son. There was a good chance she was just over thinking the situation, but she couldn't ignore the voice in her head that screamed at her that there was something more.

"You think he has mother issues?" Dean stifled the chuckle that darkened his voice.

Ariel's shoulders rose as she released her lip, which had turned red from the constant pressure of her teeth kneading the fold until she no longer felt the edges of her teeth. "Maybe. Maybe it's more than that. But I won't know until I talk to her. You can wait in the car if you like."

"And miss the interrogation?" Dean demanded as he shook his head forcefully. If she was going to question the old lady, he wanted to be there to get in a few questions of his own. "No way."

"Let me rephrase." Ariel pulled the Mustang to the edge of the sidewalk a few houses down from Mrs. Wallace's house and checked the rear-view mirror for any signs of Ethan's car in the driveway. The garage door was closed, but she guessed he was still at work. When she turned to face Dean her expression was as serious as her tone. "Stay in the car. I think I'll get a lot further without your cocky smiles."

"Huh?"

Ariel simpered slightly as she unlatched her safety belt and wrenched her car door open. "She doesn't really like you."

-----

"What if we cut his finger off?"

Brooke nearly choked on the last sip of her coffee as she whipped around to see that Sam was in fact the source of that comment. She studied the solemnity lining his expression and realised he was dead serious. Would wonders ever cease? "So you don't mind severing the guy's digits, but you don't want to kill him?"

"He can live without a finger," Sam answered plainly.

Brooke relaxed instantly, setting her empty cup down on the nightstand before returning her gaze to man standing a few feet from her. The stranger wearing Sam's face was gone, leaving behind the morally bound pensive brunette she was starting to grow accustomed to once again. The moment her shoulders relaxed Sam's expression changed. Puppy dog eyes watched her, willing her to buy right into whatever he was trying to sell. Damn these Winchesters. They were as stubborn as the hardheads in her family. Just as persuasive too. "Here we go again."

"Brooke all I'm saying is-"

"That the psycho who's been knocking off woman deserves to live." Brooke turned away from Sam's entreating eyes and cut off his words in a rush. She had no intention of allowing him to blur the lines of this job for her. Ethan was killing innocent people, he needed to be stopped. End of discussion. Again.

Sam dropped some of the papers that had once littered the walls of the motel room into a file box on the edge of the bed, watching Brooke clear out some dresser drawers before shoving the contents into her black bag. He could sense Brooke's frustration; it was etched in each muffled word she had uttered into her duffel bag. "No. All I'm saying is we can't kill a human being."

"We can't have him locked up either. That stupid ring is giving him the perfect out. So he has conveniently passed the buck on to your brother, who by the way will be rearrested and convicted if Ethan has his way. That was one laundry list of charges he got pinned with," Brooke pointed out heatedly. She was growing tired of skirting the issues. Ethan wasn't just killing people, which in itself was bad enough. He was starting to manipulate the situation to punish Dean. Regardless of the aggravation that man caused her, she had no intention of letting her friend get into serious trouble. Especially when the entire situation could be contained with a simple bullet.

"I know." Sam ran his hands through his hair as Brooke's words sunk in. Whether he liked it or not, Dean was officially on this guy's shit list with Ariel likely to follow if she wasn't already. If they didn't do something quickly the next victim was likely to be his brother or his best friend. "We need to speed up this process."

Brooke shoved the remaining contents of her dresser into the duffel bag she had been filling slowly while talking with Sam. She turned away from the bag and watched Sam peel off some of the wayward research papers stuck to the wall before asking, "What do you mean?"

"We need to get Ethan to his greatest desire. Once he gets it, the ring will end him."

Brooke sat down on the bed facing Sam, crossing her arms as she smiled. "Okay. I like where this is going."

"We just need to get him to want it. The ring will do the rest."

"How do we do that?" Brooke tilted her head as her features twisted into a contemplative look.

Sam shoved the papers in his hand into the file box as he answered. "Figure out what he wants."

"Revenge. Look at the victims. Athanasia's biggest mistake was standing this freak up at the prom. Not that I blame her. But if that doesn't scream revenge, what does?" Brooke demanded as she threw her jacket into the duffel and zipped it shut. Why were they wasting so much time trying to figure out why this guy was killing people? Just the fact that he was doing it was good enough for Brooke.

Sam shook his head unconscientiously as he started thinking aloud. "It's got to be deeper than that. He's killing these women himself. Not willing bad things to happen to them. This is bigger than simple revenge against some chick who passed over him."

"You think Ariel's on to something." Brooke huffed, dropping her shoulder in defeat. She had been hoping her sister was alone in her quest for real motivation behind Ethan's killing spree. Sadly Sam had just joined the ranks which tied Brooke and Dean with their siblings. Stalemate all around.

"I do."

"I hate hunting people. It's always messy. Call Ari and Dean; let them know we found Athanasia's connection to Ethan. I'll go put the rest of this stuff in the car." Brooke scooped her bag off the edge of her bed and headed to the door, slightly weighed down under the black canvas duffel. When she set open the motel room door and looked at the Impala sitting in the parking lot alone she made a pained sound and dropped her shoulders.

Sam turned back to see what had caused Brooke's low groan. Seeing nothing he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I miss my car," Brooke answered despondently, regretting with every fibre of her being that she had let her sister take the keys.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically as he muttered, "God, you two and your cars."

"Hey, love like that you can't buy. It just happens. And my poor baby is heading down the highway with my little sister at the wheel and Dean in the passenger seat. No good can come of that!" Brooke cupped her forehead, feigning a headache as she headed out the door, grumbling something about killing whoever scratched her car.

Sam shook his head, grabbed his jacket off the table, and started searching the pockets for his cell phone. When his searching hands didn't come across the metallic device, he started searching the room. After a few moments he spotted the phone sitting on one of the nightstands. Walking over to retrieve the phone, Sam noticed the glimmer of a small silver object sitting next to his cell. Looking closely he saw it was pendant. He had seen Ariel wear it the night of the fire. The silver lavaliere was unlike anything he had ever seen. A never ending maze of interlacing lines that formed an odd circular star. The star was encased by a circle that interlocked the star's points. The top point was hollowed out and a small silver circle dangled the pendant from a long metal chain.

Sam picked up the necklace, forgetting about his cell phone, for the moment looking instead at the beautiful workmanship in crafting of this piece of jewellery. As he turned the necklace to get a better look at the inscription on the back, the turning motion caused the adornment to spin, making the inscription twirl around as the necklace wound up. Sam dropped the pendant into his palm to get a better look at the lavaliere. The second the medallion came into contact with his skin a piercing pain shot through his eyes. The room started flashing shades of black and bright white as he the crushing pressure in his head exploded into an achromatic burst, blinding the room out of view. Blinking hard and clutching his head, Sam tired to relax as the pain reeled his body, clenching his muscles in agony. He cried out in pain and his knees buckled behind his weight, sending him to the ground with a thud, the pendant still clenched in his fist. The pounding in his ears and the stabbing in his eyes transported his mind from the present, and the shadow lurking behind him went unnoticed as he grappled with the pain seeking to claim him.

-----

"Mrs. Wallace? Are you in here?" Ariel moved lightly through the hallway. She couldn't sense the older woman, but that didn't mean she wasn't there. Rounding the corner of the yellow pansy corridor, moving into the parlour, Ariel stopped dead in her tracks. Mrs. Wallace was lying on the lilac carpet, blood covered and utterly still. Ariel didn't even have to check the woman's pulse to know she was no longer living. Based on the amount of blood that was soaking the carpet there was no way she could still be alive. The dagger that stuck out of her chest was positioned directly into her heart. "Oh my god."

Ariel's cell made a shrilling sound that pierced through the silence draping the Wallace home. She couldn't help but jump at the startling sound as she instinctively pulled the talking device from the back pocket of the jeans she had changed into before leaving Red Bridge. "Hello?"

Sam's voice came through the receiver loud and clear, thickened with concern. "Ariel where are you?"

"At Mrs. Wallace's, can I call you back?" Ariel started to back away from the parlour, moving back down the hallway to the oak staircase that led upstairs. She wanted to check out Ethan's bedroom before anyone found Mrs. Wallace's body.

"Listen to me very carefully. You have to get out of the building."

Ariel stared at her phone as though it had bit her. "What?"

"Just trust me. Get out of the building!" Sam's voice had changed from concerned to panicked.

Ariel was already half way up the carpeted stairwell; she had no intention of racing out of here. Not when she was so close to getting some answers. "But-"

Sam cut across her words as he yelled into the mouthpiece of his phone, leaving no room to question his sense of urgency. "Get the hell out and get as far away from there are you can!"

"Sam-"

"Now!" Sam barked loudly. Every second he wasted on the phone with her was one less second she had to get out.

"I'll be out in five minutes," Ariel clipped as she shut the silver cell before Sam had a chance to try to convince her about leaving before she saw Ethan's bedroom. She knew she wasn't going to get another chance. It was now or never.


	15. Chapter 15 Lying Lavations

* * *

Chapter Fifteen – **Lying Lavations**

* * *

Ariel edged her way down the narrowed hallway, pausing at the creaking sound of the floor boards. The eerie resonance emulating from the decrepit oak flooring sent chills up her spine, reminding her she was alone in the house where a murder had taken place only hours before. Images of Mrs. Wallace's lifeless body overcame her for an instant. Ariel forced the images out of her mind but couldn't release the vivid picture of the hunting knife driven deep into the old woman's chest. She could feel the low hum of rage dripping from the walls, the deep crevices left by the evil that had entered into this home. In the back of her mind she knew this place was likely going to become a problem for someone in the next few decades or so. She and Brooke would have to keep a very close eye on this place come twenty or thirty years; even if Mrs. Wallace's spirit didn't stick around, it was likely this place would become a paranormal magnet at any rate. Part of her regretted not bringing the medallion with her. The emotions held within the walls of the house were strong enough that she didn't need its amplifying ability, but it wasn't the recent feelings that she was interested in.

Ariel continued moving through the hall. The first room she passed by was a jay blue colour with a twin bed hugged between built-in oak shelves, housing cheap gold coloured trophies, framed team pictures, text books, and other memorabilia, but the name on the doorplate read "Erin". The second room she passed was a pale grey with a small bed and a desk inside, but nothing really personal aside from a lit candle sitting on the desk. Deciding this was a guest bedroom, she moved on to the final room at the end of the hallway. When she pushed open the heavy wooden door, careful not to leave any fingerprints behind, she saw a large queen sized bed covered in a lilac duvet, with white shelves lining the room, filled to their capacity with books and pictures of the Wallace family, minus Ethan. Realising this room was Mrs. Wallace's, Ariel back tracked to the second door she had peeked into. Stepping inside, she was taken aback by the room's impersonal atmosphere. Nothing inside alluded to this room functioning as a living space for a specific person. It was more like a hotel than bedroom. She looked the room over, carefully trying to find any sign that this room had an occupant, when she heard a loud thud come from downstairs. Instantly she bolted out of the room, making her way back down the hall silently, avoiding the squeaky floorboards she had stumbled on earlier. When she rounded the corner to look down the top of the staircase a familiar voice called up to her, "Ariel are you up there?"

"I thought I told you to say in the car? What the hell are you doing in here?" Ariel snapped harshly, thoroughly insulted that Dean had disregarded her instructions and come in after her.

Dean narrowed his eyes in frustration. The fact that Ariel was still inside after Sam had told her to get out was eating away his already thinning nerves. "Getting you out of here!"

"I said I was coming! Sam called you didn't he?" Ariel accused angrily. She barely listened to her father's orders, so what made these guys think she would blindly follow theirs?

"Damn straight, now move it!" Dean ordered sternly from the base of the stairwell, his tone as rigid as the lines in his face. Ariel made a huffed sound as she descended the stairs gripping the whole way down. There was little point in arguing with Dean when he was like this, and she knew it. If she didn't come down he would just come up and drag her down himself, injured leg be damned. When Ariel reached the third step to the bottom she looked Dean straight in the eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. Dean rolled his eyes, pointed towards the door, and edged her towards the entrance with his hand on her shoulder. As he followed her towards the door he caught wind of a scent he couldn't put his finger on. "Don't you smell that?"

Ariel stopped and turned back to face Dean as she inhaled deeply. The subtle smell she had earlier disregarded hit her hard as she identified the odour. "Gas!"

The couple went from a calm stroll to a panicked sprint within seconds, bolting out the door and towards the navy mustang parked up the street. Dean ran despite the tearing feeling ripping thorough him, forcing himself to maintain a decent speed as he trailed Ariel, but the searing pain in Dean's leg made him lag back noticeably. By the time he reached the car Ariel was already inside with the engine running, backing up to met him. He hopped in the car, stifling an anguished groan as she hit the gas and sped away from the small, gas-filled house. As she rounded the corner leading back to highway eleven, the deafening blare of an explosion sounded through the air. Dean said nothing as he watched Ariel's eyes glaze over at the adrenaline that coursed through, tightening her hands on the steering wheel to stop their slight shake until her knuckles turned white with the intensity of her grip. A few moments later her hold lessened and she glanced over at Dean, noticing the pain held in his eyes and his gritted teeth. "Are you alright?"

"I was going to ask you the same question."

-----

"Did you get anything out of Mrs. Wallace?"

Ariel stared at her sister for a moment, toying with the trim of her blouse, trying to decipher the words that shaped the question she couldn't quite remember. When Brooke repeated her question, Ariel answered evenly, "She's dead."

"He killed his own mother? What's this guy deal?" Brooke shook her head as she sat on the edge of the bed next to Sam. Sam shifted over to give her more room before he continued absently rubbing his forehead. Despite Brooke's repeated offers of an ice pack, Sam had declined. He knew the dull echo in his mind would subside soon enough.

Ariel muttered silently to no one in particular as she took a seat next to Dean on one of the chairs adjoining the table in the corner of the room. "Vengeance."

"What?" Dean asked, somewhat puzzled by Ariel's answer. She had been so sure there was something stronger than revenge motivating the killing.

Ariel looked up from the spot on the floor she had been studying to stare at Dean. His jaw was clenched in the pain that was wafting off him, but he had already downed two of his painkillers, she just had to be patient and wait for them to take effect. She pushed the numbing pain she was picking up from him out of her mind with an effort that left her feeling light-headed. When the room finally stopped spinning Ariel cleared her throat and answered Dean's question calmly. "Did you look at the pictures? They were almost all of Erin. He was clearly her favourite. Emily Singleton rejected him. So did his mother."

"So did Athanasia. She stood him up at the prom," Sam added tonelessly. He shook his head faintly when he realized the only reason the woman had lost her life was because of a decision that she made when she was in her teens.

"Figures," Dean huffed as he turned one of the empty chairs at the table around so he could prop his leg up on it. He bit down on his tongue to keep himself from soughing in pain.

Brooke titled her head, thinking for a moment on Ethan's motives. The motion sent her hair over her shoulder, brushing the embroidered detailing on her poncho. "So what are you saying? His greatest desire is to be … accepted?"

"Something along those lines. He wants some sort of retribution, there's no questioning that." Ariel lined the white stitching on her jeans with her fingertips absently. She couldn't shake the fog that was whisking through her mind, replaying recent events in her head over and over, trying to piece together enough information to answer the questions mulling around her psyche.

Sam watched Dean rise from his seat painfully, head over to the black duffel on the floor of the motel, and start shifting through the contents hurriedly. "What are you doing?"

"Getting this over with." Dean answered squarely as he pulled the 9mm Browning he had been looking for from the canvas duffel.

Sam rubbed his forehead, sighing bitterly, "Oh, not again."

"Look, this guy has killed four people! Mrs. Wallace would be alive if we had done our jobs," Dean snarled as he pulled the magazine clear. He checked the cartridge and snapped it back in place before yanking the chamber back, checking the sights, and pinning the gun between his leather belt and the jeans, resting the barrel in his pocket.

Brooke glanced over her shoulders to look at Sam with apologetic blue eyes as she said, "I'm with Dean on this one."

"Me too," Ariel whispered.

Sam couldn't help but sit up as the shock of Ariel's declaration washed over him. He had thought he and Ariel saw eye to eye on this. He stared at her as he asked dejectedly, "What?"

"We can't stop him. The man that was Ethan Wallace is gone. He's completely evil now. I felt it in the bank." Ariel gave her friend a sympathetic half smile, trying to reason with him, trying to make him understand why they had to side with their siblings, if only just this once. "And it's escalating."

Dean nodded, not really taken aback by Ariel's changed perspective. She had just survived another brush with death at the hands of this psychopath, but deep down he knew that wasn't the motivation behind Ariel's switch. He had seen the heartbreaking glance she had cast towards the parlour on her way out of Mrs. Wallace's house. Guilt, however misplaced, was an oddly motivating factor. If they didn't stop Ethan he would kill again. Soon. Turning his attention to his brother, Dean reaffirmed, "We have to end this. Now."

"Finally!" Brooke tossed her hands up in the air in a gesture of frustration. She had wanted to shoot Ethan the moment his house had crashed down to the ground. Probably before then.

"Um, guys? Don't we got to find him first?" Ariel reminded them softly, wondering how the pair of gung ho hunters always insisted on getting ahead of themselves.

Dean muttered something crude under his breath before turning to Brooke. "You still have a list of relatives of this guy? Someone's bound to know where good old Ethan is."

Brooke nodded curtly. "It's on the computer."

Dean settled back into his formerly abandoned chair, selecting the Wallace file from the recent documents listed on Brooke's laptop. He started sifting through the list of family and friends, making a list of people living in the area as he pulled previously saved driver's records on his favourite candidates. As he browsed through the open windows, his hand stilled when he passed over an electronic copy of a robin's egg blue certificate. He read the names on the document twice before he asked, "Hey, where did you get this?"

"I scanned a copy of Ethan's birth certificate when I pulled his files, why?" Brooke asked as she shifted off the bed and walked over to Dean, peering over his shoulder at the birth certificate. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Dean continued to browse the Wallace file on the computer, checking a different document to confirm his suspicions before he answered tonelessly, "The name's wrong."

"What do you mean?" Curiosity drove Sam to his feet and he joined Brooke behind Dean at the computer.

"The birth certificate lists the mother as Mabel Wallace." Dean rubbed his forehead, mentally kicking himself for missing something so obvious.

Sam didn't see the connection. "And?"

"Erin's birth certificate named Ethel Wallace didn't it?" Brooke questioned, though she was fairly certain of the answer.

Ariel leaned in her chair enquiringly after seeing the sheepish looks Dean and Brooke were exchanging. "What was the first name of the Mrs. Wallace we met?"

"Ethel," Dean and Brooke answered in unison.

Ariel swallowed hard as understanding dawned and she pinned Dean with a concerned expression as she demanded, "Run a search on Mabel Wallace."

"Already started."

"Good. That gives me and Sammy a chance to talk," Ariel said as she stood from her chair, pinning Sam with her stare as she gestured towards the front door with a nod.

It was the look in Ariel's eyes that made Sam unhurriedly follow Ariel out of the weathered wood panelled door without question. The moment Sam cleared the front door Ariel had it shut firmly behind him and was tugging on his striped shirt as she marched away from their room. When they were far enough from the door to ensure a decent level of privacy, Ariel set her jaw, released Sam's shirt, and started speaking hurriedly. "Okay Sam, you called me, told me to get out of the house. Then you called Dean to get me out of the house. And then the house blew up, Sam. So, you mind telling me what the hell that was?"

"It's a long story," Sam offered weakly. He didn't really like talking about his abilities; they made him feel almost subhuman. Despite Ariel possessing a similar gift, he didn't feel comfortable outing himself.

Ariel gave Sam a completely un-amused look as she crossed her arms austerely. "Lucky for you I don't have anyplace to go just now."

"I saw it happen, okay? I saw it blow up with you inside."

"You saw it?" Ariel cocked her head to the side as the meaning of his words sunk in. "As in a vision, saw it?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"You get visions?" Ariel demanded, her tone increasing to a dangerously high level.

Sam nodded again, knowing he wasn't going to like what happened next. "Yeah."

"You son of a bitch!" Ariel shouted as she turned away from Sam in disgust, her arms wrapped tightly around herself to keep her from lashing out at the lying brunette who claimed a friendship with her. "I tell you I'm empathic and you never bother to mention you're a freaking psychic?!"

"It's kind of a hit and miss thing. Sometimes I can almost control it. Most times I can't," Sam offered feebly. He knew she had every right to be angry with him at the moment. He had withheld a giant part of his life from her after she had shared her secret. But in the back of his mind Sam knew his secret was far different from Ariel's. Ariel's abilities weren't part of a demon's sinister plans.

Ariel ran her fingers through her hair, driving them into the midnight mass as she tried to cap her emotions before turning back to face him. "That's real comforting Sam!"

-----

"That was a vision, wasn't it?"

"What?" Dean nearly choked on his coffee as he turned to face Brooke, who had decided to inhabit the chair next to him while sucking down her java and waiting for the results on Mabel Wallace.

Brooke rolled her eyes in exasperation, set her cup down and pinned Dean with a no-bullshit stare. "Don't play dumb with me Winchester! I saw him have his vision. He doesn't know I saw him, but I did."

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked evenly, neither admitting nor denying anything.

"Nothing. Things just make a little more sense now." Brooke smiled as she put her feet up on the table, crossing her brown boots at the ankle before she rubbed her temples. "So your brother's psychic.

Dean traced his tongue across the edge of his teeth before muttering quietly, "And your sister's empathic."

"She told you?" Brooke uncrossed her feet and was sitting back at full attention before her question left her lips, anger, shock, and fear evident in the lines of her expression.

Dean wasn't sure why Brooke seemed so uneasy. It wasn't like he was going to tell anyone. "Didn't have to."

"Great," Brooke mumbled sarcastically. She would have preferred her sister came out and said she was psychic than people just picking up on it. She inhaled, bracing herself for the drama she feared would ensue as she asked squarely, "Does Sam know?

"Yeah, I think so." Dean shrugged. As close as Ariel and Sam seemed to be, he would be surprised if the subject hadn't come up.

Brooke exhaled quietly. If Sam knew the whole story, he hadn't hinted when they had discussed their family histories. Which meant Dean had in fact kept his promise. "Then I guess I should thank you."

"For?" Dean asked as he started to wonder if this conversation could get anymore confusing.

Brooke rubbed the bridge of her nose rapidly, trying to stem a budding migraine as she answered, "Not telling Sam about my mom."

"I gave my word Brooke," Dean said matter-of-factly. He had promised never to discuss Evelyn Cooper's death with anyone. To this day he couldn't understand why the circumstances surrounding her death required so much secrecy, but Frank had been very insistent, and Dean didn't see any problems with taking the information to his grave.

"I know," Brooke spoke to the scuff mark on Dean's boot rather than looking into his hazel eyes. She didn't feel comfortable thanking Dean for keeping something from his brother, but she had more important things to worry about. "But you could have reasoned your way out of it. You didn't, and I appreciate it. The last thing I need is for Ariel to find out."

"Wait." Dean shook his head hard against the words Brooke had just sputtered. No matter how many ways he replayed them, they came back to the same appalling statement. "Ariel doesn't know?"

Brooke shook her head and answered simply, "No."

"How could she not know, Brooke?" Dean demanded, an unexplainable fury rising in his blood as he realized Ariel had no idea how her mother had died.

"She was so young. Just a baby." Brooke's voice trailed off as memories flooded her conscious. A hot summer's night, her mother's terror filled scream, the smell of flames engulfing the house as Brooke ran through the hall screaming for her father. Shaking her head from her waking nightmare, Brooke added almost silently, "Ariel doesn't remember anything."

"Why didn't you tell her?" Dean demanded, every word resounding with vehemence.

Brooke looked up, pinning Dean with a look that matched his intensity toe-to-toe. "Because she doesn't need to know."

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean didn't really need a response to that question as the answer was painfully clear. Brooke was off her rocker! "How could you not tell her about her mother?"

"First of all, it wasn't my choice to make. Dad decided a long time ago Ariel didn't need to know what happened that night." Brooke swallowed hard against the emotions that were threatening her determined expression. She had often wanted to share her few remaining memories of their mother with her little sister. But it wasn't something she had ever been allowed to discuss, with anyone. Then, years later when their step-mother had been killed, Ariel had taken her death much harder than Brooke ever had. After that there had been no question in Brooke's mind that her father had made the only plausible decision. "And given how she took Lisa's death, I think he's right."

Dean was completely taken aback. He wanted to reach out and shake his friend until some sense seeped into that fiery red head of hers. "So you're just never going to tell her?"

"No." Brooke shook her head briskly.

"That's real healthy!" Dean snapped. Looking at the pain radiating in Brooke's steely stare, Dean softened his tone and pressed gently, "She deserves to know."

Brooke scoffed indignantly. "She deserves to be subjected to more pain?"

"No."

"Well then?" Brooke demanded almost callously, but her eyes flooded with unexpressed emotions, regret being the strongest one she could name.

Dean bit down, clenching his jaw to keep from swearing until he trusted himself enough to speak. "You should tell her!"

"Are you going to?" Brooke asked desperately trying to maintain some semblance of civility despite the whirlwind of emotions racking her psyche.

After a long tension filled silence, Dean released the breath he had been holding while he counted back to ten, trying to calm himself despite the fury he was feeling at Frank and Brooke for keeping such a big secret from Ariel. He shook his head in defeat and met Brooke's unwavering stare. "No. For starters, she wouldn't believe me. And it's not my place."

"Thank you." The elation that washed over Brooke was almost euphoric.

Dean continued to shake his head, aghast with the information he too had to withhold from Ariel. The knowledge that he would unwillingly be contributing to a falsity that shrouded her past made Dean feel sick. "Don't thank me. Do not thank me. I'm helping betray her trust. Helping you force her to live a lie. Don't thank me, Brooke."

Brooke bit her lip as Dean's words stung her already burning conscience. She shot up to her feet furiously and stormed for the front door, cursing the entire situation as she brooded her way away from Dean. Before Brooke could shut the door, Ariel marched in irately, slamming the door hard enough for the walls to vibrate from the impact. Ariel was so upset with Sam she didn't pause to ask why her sister had rushed out the room hurriedly. Ariel crossed the room in a few strides and plopped herself down on the chair Brooke had moments before been seated in and emanated the torrent breath that heated her blood with every inhalation.

"Two pissed off Coopers. This day couldn't get any worse," Dean muttered sarcastically, but he couldn't help the guilt that rushed into his awareness as he watched Ariel.

Ariel shook her head so forcefully her hair went flying in a whirling mass around her head, setting in complete disarray as she blurted out, "Jack ass!"

"What?" Dean suddenly became uneasy. Had Ariel overheard his conversion with Brooke?

"Not you!" Ariel clipped. "Your brother."

Dean's shoulders relaxed instantly as he sniggered, "What'd he do?"

"He knew I was empathic. He knew and never bothered to mention he was clairvoyant!" Ariel shouted, thoroughly upset. She wanted to wrap her hands around Sam's throat. She knew she was overreacting, but that knowledge was a small voice trying to be heard in a giant chorus of hurt feelings that burned into anger instead of tears.

"Well in his defence, you weren't too up front about it either."

"He should have told me," Ariel attested quietly. When the brunt of her rancour eased down to mild discompose, Ariel looked at Dean's expression. He was watching her with an understanding smile on his face that had an instantaneous calming effect. Switching her focus from Sam to Dean, Ariel studied Dean's expression, needing to have a question answered, "Sam's like me. That's why you weren't freaked out?"

Dean thought about the question for the sum total of three seconds before answering truthfully, "Yeah."

"Nothing else?" Ariel pressed lightly. She would have taken him at his word if she hadn't felt the twinge of apprehension twist inside him. However slight it was, it was there.

Dean's brows furrowed in bewilderment as he inquired, "What do you mean?"

"You aren't telling the whole truth," Ariel answered evenly.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to." Dean watched Ariel with heavy hazel eyes, trying to find the words. Every explanation that entered his mind was quickly discarded. He couldn't truthfully answer her original question without going back on his word. Dean seldom gave his word, but when he did, he meant it. Plain and simple. Yet Ariel kept watching him with big enquiring emerald eyes. "I…can't."

"Because of Sam?" Ariel asked quietly, wondering what else Sam was concealing from her.

"No."

Ariel toyed with her bottom lip nervously before she asked, "If you could tell me?"

"I would," Dean answered forthrightly. If there was any way to tell her without breaking his word, he would find it.

Ariel watched the truthful expression Dean gave her. She honestly believed him. Smiling lightly, she looked away from the sure hazel-green eyes watching her as she whispered, "That's good enough for me."

Dean reached across the laptop and tucked a few strands of Ariel's hair behind her ear with a smile on his face that was both apologetic and thankful. Without realizing what she was doing, Ariel turned her face and breathed a kiss into Dean's palm. He brought his thumb over her lips in a quiet caress and dropped his hand from her face as the bright yellow flashing on the computer screen captured his attention. The search window blinked repeatedly, _one match found…_


	16. Chapter 16 Volatile Vociferations

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Chapter Sixteen – **Volatile Vociferations

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**

Dean rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying to ease the dull ache that had settled into his mind, when the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. The job that he had started having second thoughts about taking was finally reaching its end, he could feel it. There was no doubt in his mind that after tonight the ophidian ring would never wreak its havoc on anyone again. Neither would Ethan Wallace. Not if he had any say in it. When Dean's sandy lashes lifted and he opened his eyes, Brooke's still form was still hovering over the computer, staring at the screen. Brooke hadn't said a word to him since marching out of the motel, and he didn't bother to change that. Ariel had her head propped up on her fists as she chewed her bottom lip anxiously. Sam was sitting across from him at the table, finding the address for Mabel Wallace on the map. When his lean fingers found the cross street Sam made a inaudible sound and pushed the book towards Dean, keeping his finger in place until Dean gave him an affirming nod and spoke. "Recap what we know about this ring."

"It gives the wearer the power to make their deepest desires reality. After the wearer gets their heart's desire the snake comes alive and bites them, stealing their soul." Sam said to no one in particular before he pressed his knuckles to his lips as he watched Brooke close the laptop and drop herself into the chair next to him, carefully avoiding eye contact with Dean or Ariel. He wasn't sure what Brooke and Dean had been talking about while Ariel had outed him on his abilities, but it seemed Dean was as frustrated at Brooke as Ariel was at him. And Brooke seemed just as guilt stricken as he was. The change in tension had effectively divided the group in an odd pairing.

Ariel ran her thumb nail against her bottom lip as she processed her thoughts, forcing everything from her mind but the task at hand. "Ethan's desires all center around punishing the people he feels have rejected him. The ring is giving him the courage, the drive, and the capability to kill."

"And what would be his greatest desire?" Dean asked quietly, tapping the map book with his index finger absently.

Ariel turned slightly to face Dean as she answered his question, the truth behind her words saddening her voice. "Complete retribution. In his mind, all those who have wronged him must pay for their crimes."

"And once everyone's been punished?" Brooke questioned, not looking up from her clasped hands on the table top.

"Theoretically? Killing Mabel might bring him full circle." Ariel exhaled audibly, crossing her arms over the table as shrugged languidly. "Either way, he's been working up. Each victim hurt him more than the last."

Sam nodded in agreement, scratching his head pensively as he added, "After killing his step-mom, the next logical target would be his mother."

"Oh, he is going to head to Mabel's," Dean averred. "No question."

"It's the best lead we've got," Brooke agreed, watching Sam's expression to see if he had conceded.

Sam looked at Brooke for a moment and nodded faintly, silently answering her unasked question before he rose from his chair, muttering, "Let's get this over with."

Brooke grabbed her laptop as Sam hoisted the black canvas duffel from the floor and headed outside. Ariel trailed behind with Dean as he favoured his left leg. There was a sombre air collecting between the four of them. There wasn't a member in the group looking forward to killing Ethan, despite what they had said. Taking another person's life, regardless of how evil they were, wasn't something any of them relished or enjoyed. That line, as troubling as it was, separated them from the things they killed. Ariel walked to the back of the Mustang while Sam loaded the duffel bag into the Impala and Brooke packed her computer into the backseat of her car. The glare on the rear-view mirror caught her attention and Ariel turned around, noticing for the first time that the sun had already began its descent. Exhaling as she forced herself to relax, she watched in silent awe as the setting sun touched every surface with a burning gold. The scene itself was so beautiful she didn't want to blink for fear of missing its splendour. She wasn't sure why, but heading to the cars, preparing for the drive out to Balsam Creek, it all had an air of finality to it. Ariel's stomach was twisting in knots when she eased the handgun Brooke had just pushed in to her hand behind her back inattentively. Before she could settle on the feeling that was bugging her, another emotion flared into her psyche. Turning to her sister, Ariel asked, "What's with the guilt?"

Brooke's red eyebrows rose in confusion as she pulled a five inch blade from its harness and checked the sharpness of the steel. "What guilt?"

"Yours," Ariel answered simply.

Brooke shrugged indifferently and continued strapping the knife harness to her forearm. "Don't know what you are talking about."

"Brooke," Ariel yelped at her sister. There was no way Brooke could deny an emotion she felt clearly, and she knew it.

Brooke grabbed a 45 out of the trunk, checking the cartridge quickly before shutting the trunk and turning to her sister with a forced smile. "Why don't you drive with Sam?"

"There's no way I'm getting into a car with him right now," Ariel attested firmly. She knew if she drove out with Sam she'd go at him again for not telling her about his gift and they would probably start bickering. It didn't happen too often, but seeing as Sam was as stubborn as she was, their bickering could last a few draining hours, leaving them both exhausted and feeling like crap for arguing with each other. Not something she felt like doing before a hunt.

"Fine," Brooke muttered. She had successfully managed to get her sister focused on her spat with Sam and off of her emotions. Enjoying the slight victory, Brooke slid the pistol she was holding between her jeans and the small of her back. Once the gun was secure she flashed her sister a small simper and walked around to the front of the Mustang, casting a wilful look over her shoulder as she said, "Ride with Dean."

"You want me to spend time with Dean?" Ariel couldn't have been more floored if someone had knocked her to the ground with a haymaker punch. This wasn't like Brooke at all. "Man, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Brooke stated evenly before shooting Sam a look and calling to him over the hood of her car. "Sam you're riding with me."

After exchanging a few awkward glances, Sam got in the Mustang before Brooke turned the ignition key, revved the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot without so much as a look in her rear-view mirror. Dean was as lead footed as she was. There was no question in Brooke's mind that he could catch up to them in record time.

Ariel shook her head forcefully, trying to figure out what had just happened. Turning to Dean, who was already seated in his car, she questioned, "Do I want to know?

"Probably," Dean answered truthfully, but shrugged his shoulders dolefully. "But I can't tell you anyway."

Ariel nodded her understanding and headed around to the passenger side of Dean's Impala. After sliding into the car, she looked over at Dean's thigh, which was once again bleeding from his run out of Mrs. Wallace's house. He had most likely had ripped his stitches. "Are you sure you can drive?"

"I drive with my right foot." Dean laughed as he turned the ignition key and threw the car in gear. He knew very well that he could be missing both his legs and he would still find a way to drive the Impala.

-----

"Are you sure we got the right address?"

Sam looked over the roof of Brooke's Mustang at his brother, who was leaning against his Impala, staring at the large building that was enclosed by the surrounding forest in the darkness of the night that had settled deeply into the stone brick walls. "I checked it twice. She lives in an apartment inside the warehouse."

"Oh, this can't be good. Look at how many points of entry there are in this place," Brooke said anxiously as she scanned the warehouse, looking for signs of activity within the darkened building. All the lights were out from what she could see, though based on the width and span of the structure, there could be several enclosed areas shielded from her view. She raked her fingers through her hair in aggravation. No matter how she studied the building, there were simply too many ways in for her to come up with any sort of tactical plan. "He could already be in there!"

Dean noticed Ariel staring at the wooden sign displaying the company's logo and hours of operation staked into the ground near the walkway they had parked beside. She seemed transfixed, as though the signage were utterly enrapturing. He moved towards her, ignoring Brooke's oral evaluation of the building and plan of action, until he could wave his hands in front of Ariel's glazed green eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I've seen this symbol before," Ariel answered absently as the cogs of her mind turned fervently to identify the symbol's place in her memory.

Dean eyed the logo on the board, the interlocking M and W. It looked somewhat familiar, but not familiar enough to form any sort of lasting impression on him. "Where?"

"The knife sticking out of Ethel Wallace." Ariel's voice was toneless as she became conscious of the irony in her statement. Ethan had killed his stepmother with a knife made by his birth mother's company.

Realization hit Dean like a brick and he scowled, thoroughly appalled, "Oh that's just sick."

"Maybe Ethan's a no show?" Brooke's voice carried lightly over to Dean and Ariel when only silence and darkness clung to the night's state.

Dean cast Brooke and Sam a look of complete and utter certainty before he shook his head curtly and affirmed, "He's here."

Brooke was about to mutter something about self-assured, cocky huntsmen when her thought was interrupted by an earth curdling shriek that originated somewhere within the benighted depths of the warehouse and carried through the still air to the sounding woods. Dean and Sam looked at each other for a split second before racing up the pathway with Brooke and Ariel hard on their heels. The moment they reached the fork in the path Sam instinctively took the right and Dean took the left. Brooke didn't even hesitate to follow Sam towards the front of the warehouse, despite the fact that keeping in step with him was taking every ounce of strength her legs could muster. Brooke was fast, but she couldn't compete with the distance Sam's lengthy legs provided. When she reached the entrance, Sam had already jimmied the door open and was stepping inside. Evening her breath out with a control that spoke of the years of hunting she had under her belt, Brooke crept into the pitch-black entranceway. As she moved down the hallway behind Sam soundlessly, she watched the cascading moonlight dim as they moved further into the warehouse and away from the open glass pane door. Sam studied the worn patterns on the floor as he edged down the corridor silently. Despite the darkness, he could make out the footpath that led into the main stock room. Neither he nor Brooke had any desire to alert anyone to their presence; they kept their flashlights pocketed and used the textured stucco walls as their guides into the never-ending interior passageway. There was a small bead of light streaming under the crevice beneath a set of vinyl doors. Though dim, the light shone like a beacon in the darkness as they advanced to the entryway.

Brooke backed up against the wall opposite Sam, removing her pistol noiselessly. She heard the slight click of the hammer cocking back on Sam's gun and knew he had followed suit despite not actually being able to see him in the shadows. Sam's low whispered words carried to her ears softly as he counted slowly. On three he kicked the door open; Brooke crisscrossed the entrance, taking shelter behind a melting pot of steel as Sam took cover behind several stacked crates parallel to her. Despite the muted light filtering through the muggy air of the warehouse, Ethan's lithe form was clearly visible. He was hunched over the expiring form of an elderly woman. Her grey pin curls where damp with the sweat dipping from her wrinkled brow as she silently pleaded for her life. The dark bloom of blood reddened the grey t-shirt she was wearing under a pair of denim overalls. Ethan was gripping the knife wedged into her chest harshly as though he was savouring the pain she felt as he inched the blade in, watching the deceptively slow gush of her life's blood well up over the blade's edge, pooling on her shirt before it eased down her sides puddling around her body in a dark crimson alluvion. Ethan leaned back on his heels as he withdrew the blade from her ribcage, staring at the blood-dripping steel as the scarlet drops of blood pelted the cotton fabric of her clothing in a rhythmic trickling that was almost audible in the deafening silence that draped the concrete room. After the streaming drippage of blood slowed to a slackened dribble, Ethan raised the blade to his arm, wiping the red stain onto his white collared shirt before he traced the pained features of the woman whose life was slipping away beneath his intense gaze. When he moved to insert the blade once more, Brooke and Sam moved from their hiding places in unison, guns drawn and aimed at Ethan.

"Ethan, don't do it." Sam's voice carried through the concrete warehouse, the echo resounding as though he had yelled. Ethan looked away from the perishing woman lying beneath him casting a wayward glance to his audience before returning his attention to the bleeding gape in the woman's chest. Ethan eyed the knife and moved forward, about the plunge the blade in once more.

"You're not that fast, man," Brooke called as she cocked the hammer back on her pistol, making sure the sound reverberated in the silence. "I'll have a bullet in your head before you even move a muscle."

Sam saw Ariel and Dean move through the shadows in the distance behind Ethan. They were getting into position for good shots. Sam knew if this situation was going to end peacefully, he had to reason with Ethan fast. "You need to give us the ring."

"Why would I do that?" Ethan muttered, puzzled. He saw no threat in the guns pointed at him. If they were going to shoot, they would have done so already.

Brooke's patience dissolved the moment Mabel Wallace's breathing became laboured and her listless body began to shake from the loss of blood as she went into shock. They were running out of time. "The ring, or your life. Your choice."

The sound of two gun hammers cocking brought Ethan's attention to the shadows behind him. Dean moved away from his covered position and aimed directly at Ethan with a look on his face that dared the taller man to move. Dean didn't release the ashen haired man from his sights as he stepped closer, despite the aching pain that was shooting through his leg with every step. Ariel remained as she was, partially shielded behind a hoard of crates; her position gave her a perfectly clear shot that she would lose if she moved.

Ethan eyed the quartet surrounding him cautiously. He smiled almost mockingly at Ariel and Dean before turning his attention back to Brooke and Sam. It was the elderly woman's tattered breathing that broke the silence. She gasped for air as her lungs filled with the blood that was painting her clothes scarlet and robbing her of her body heat with each passing second. Sam and Dean were several feet from the dying woman yet there was little either could do at the moment but watch her struggle to take her last breath. Ariel watched in horror as the blood pool increased slowly around the old woman, enwrapping Ethan's shoes in the carmine liquid as he smiled with satisfaction. There was nothing anyone could do to save Mabel Wallace as her eyes darkened and she let her final breath escape her lips. Her body went deathly still, her features frozen in terror, looking straight at her attacker even in death. Ariel winced as her emotions were overrun with Ethan's. A mismatch of elation, anger, fear, joy, apprehension, and triumph that made her vision blur as she cried out bitterly, "Looks like you got what you wanted. Everyone who hurt you paid in full. What else could you want?"

Ethan turned back to eye the raven haired girl who looked as though she was suffering from some unknown affliction. He felt the cooling puddle of Mabel's blood under his tennis shoes, heard the quiet squish behind his feet as shifted his weight, and sneered. He had exacted revenge on everyone he despised. The only thing he wanted more then those who had hurt him to pay for their crimes in their own blood was this unholy building that he was standing in to be as crushed as his spirits. "You wouldn't understand."

Ariel felt a drastic change as contentment rushed Ethan's psyche. It was so heady the sensation was almost euphoric. Dean turned to look at Ariel; her deep uneven breathing had caught his attention. Ariel stood completely transfixed, eyes closed against the emotions she was bombarded with as she struggled to push Ethan's elation from her consciousness. A bliss that was indescribable deprived her of words and her knees buckled against the pressure of her psyche. Dean was already moving towards her as she cried out in pain, screaming something incoherent as she gripped her head in agony. There was no way to warn them about what was to happen next. The blinding light that ripped through the warehouse was as unexpected as the scorching heat and thunderous crack that snapped the walls of the structure as though they had been built with toothpicks rather then steel rods. The explosion was so emphatic a visible wave quaked through the air, bending the walls as though they were being reflected in a fun house mirror, before the concrete cracked and burst like a firecracker. In the next instant the bright illumination and sonic boom were gone, and an unearthly darkness filled the space as an eerie silence blanketed the world as heavily as death had covered the old woman's body only moments before.

-----

Ariel opened her eyes with a slowness that befitted the violent pounding in her brain. She felt as though her skull had been split in two, run over by a semi truck and then dipped in acid until her vision blurred to a point beyond obscurity and the pain surging through her blood made her stomach churn. Despite the haze, when she lifted her hand to her eyes to rub them, in hopes of clearly her vision, she saw the vivid red coating her fingertips. It was only at that point she felt the blood flowing freely from the gash on her temple and her left shoulder. The explosion had hit her hard, but not nearly as bad as it could have. If Dean hadn't sheltered her from the blast with his body, she knew her wounds have been far more severe. Blinking violently, trying to make her eyes focus, she wiped her bloody hands on her pants and braced her palms against the heated asphalt lying beneath her. When she tried to stand, the pain that ripped through her shoulder told her she had dislocated her scapula. Forcing herself to ignore the searing pain, she stood, nearly falling over when a wave of nausea flooded through the pain bounding inside her skull. Biting her bottom lip hard enough to cause her white teeth to cut the sensitive skin she was biting, she ignored the bleeding and strained herself to focus on the scene around her. The once neatly arranged warehouse looked like a scene from an action thriller. Only one wall remained intact, the rest were blown into varying sized strips of metal. All the remaining contents in the building were alight. She bit her lip harder in an effort not to let the tears brimming on her dark lashes from falling. She couldn't cry. Not until she found everyone.

When the explosion went off, Dean had had his arms wrapped around her in an effort to protect her from the blast yet, he was nowhere in sight. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out her own pain, in hopes of using her empathetic abilities to locate him. But the moment her eyes closed the wave of faintness that threatened to claim her rose through her brain. She had a very bad concussion, and judging by her light-headedness, she was losing a lot of blood.

She stumbled towards a mound of rubble that looked like it may contain a human life. Pulling at the scorched pieces of concrete, wood, and metal, she unveiled the still form of Ethan Wallace. His ashen hair was matted and blood soaked, blue eyes opened in what looked like ecstasy, all colour had been drained from his face, and his limbs were just starting to stiffen. She reached for his hand and saw the gold ring still wrapped around his finger. Above the ring laid two small puncture wounds closely set together. The blackened mark of Meretseger clearly formed above the punctures. Ethan had gotten his very heart's desire and the ring had taken his life.

A low groan of pain carried over the constant crackling of the scattered flames. Instinctively, she headed towards the sound, about twelve or so yards from where she stood. As she approached, she spotted the partially buried figure. Black scuffed boots were sticking clear of the wreckage and lead to a pair of blood soaked jeans that disappeared under the rubble. Quickening her pace, Ariel started pulling the pieces of debris away from the man who was moaning in pain. Once he was free of the wreckage, Ariel placed her hand lightly on his check, encouraging him to wake from his semi unconscious state. "Dean?"

The blood that covered most of his once golden brown hair warned Ariel of his condition. He had already lost a lot of blood and judging by a quick probing of his body, he was sporting a broken arm and at least three or four fractured ribs. She didn't need to probe his leg to know it was broken; the bone had severed through the skin above his knee and his blood was a steady stream flowing over her knees as she knelt next to him. Pulling at his shirt until she could start tearing the already blood soaked cloth into strips; she started fashioning a tourniquet in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. She knew she couldn't do much to stop the flow of blood with a simple tourniquet, but the nearest hospital was over an hour away.

Hazel-green eyes look up at her, etched in pain and dulled by the concussion his head injury had caused. "Check on Sam."

Despite Dean's condition, Ariel knew better than to argue with him. She tightened the makeshift tourniquet and stood as quickly as she could to survey the wreckage once more. Moving through the crumbled warehouse, she stopped dead in her tracks the moment she spotted him. Sam's hand was submerged under a thick pile of debris. The pool of blood surrounding it told her it was too late. "Sam!"

Running to his side, frantically tearing at the debris that had buried him, the scream that ripped through her at the sight of his face echoed the terror her mind had already warned her of. Sam's face was marred by cuts and gashes that once flooded freely with blood but now served only to emphasize the deep contrast in the pale pallor of his skin. Despite her brain telling her in loud tones that he was dead, she pressed her fingers against his throat, holding her own breath to allow her to feel for a pulse, no matter how minute. But she felt nothing.

"Sam? Please wake up!" Ariel tried pulling at the wooden stake that had been wedged into his chest, convincing herself that if she could free him she would somehow be able to save him. She pulled at the stake with all her strength, but couldn't move it more than a fraction of an inch. Her own blood loss was draining her of strength. Kneeling beside her friend, Ariel felt for his pulse again, not wanting to believe that his stillness was final. Beating his chest with all the force she could muster, she screamed until her voice was hoarse. Then she let the tears fighting to be free fall from her eyes as she collapsed on to the blood soaked fabric of his shirt. "Sammy!"

Ariel managed to look away from Sam's lifeless body. The screams of horror that had ripped at her throat clenched in her mouth, making breathing nearly impossible. Only the need to find her sister drove her to stand. The tears she was shedding clouded her vision far worse than the wooziness of her concussion. Knowing Brooke was close to Sam at the time of the explosion, she called out, hoping against hope she would get an answer. "Brooke?"

Wiping at her tears, she walked in search of her sister's lithe form as she continued calling for her. Spotting Brooke's empty heeled boot in front another pile of debris, Ariel rushed to the site. Brooke was laying a few feet away, free of the wreckage that had caused the blood to flow from the back of her head. Ariel knelt next to her sister, smoothing away the matted curls on her face, wiping the crimson fluid from her jaw. Her sister was unconscious but breathing faintly. She felt her pulse, it was weakened but steady. She hadn't lost nearly as much blood as Dean had, but she was by no means safe. She had lost enough blood to make getting her to a hospital an urgent matter. Mentally calculating Brooke's blood loss and the amount of travel time she had to take to get her medical attention, Ariel bit down on her already bleeding lower lip. Brooke would never make it to the hospital.

The sound of muffled breathing caught her attention.

"Dean?" That sound he was making could mean only one thing: his lungs were punctured. She raced back to his side adjusting his head to enable him to take in more air. "Dean!"

Though he was barely conscious, Dean forced himself to focus. "Where's Sam?"

Ariel shook her head, tears welling from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to form the words. If she said it, then it was real, Sam was gone and she would never have him back. How could she look Dean in the eyes and tell him his brother was dead? The moment the thoughts formed in her mind, she was hit with an anguish that was so deep her heart ached. Her best friend was gone. The man she loved like a brother was laying not fifteen feet away from her, cold as the ground he would be buried in. Looking at Dean, she tried to push her own feelings aside. How do you tell someone their heart and soul just died? How do you tell a man who would willingly give his life for his brother that he had lost that very person he would die for? When she opened her mouth to try to say something, the only word that squeezed past her tightly clenched throat was his name. The stillness that swept over his body was another form of death. He knew. She could see his spirit die the moment the realization hit him. "Dean-"

"Brooke?" Dean strained himself to concentrate on anything but the pain tearing through his heart. No physical affliction could compare to the agony he was feeling. He had failed. He hadn't been able to protect his little brother when it had really mattered. It wasn't until that very moment that he understood what it meant to die of a broken heart. His heart felt as though it had no desire to continue beating.

Eyeing Dean carefully, Ariel answered his question, wishing she could drown out the feelings of grief that were clouding her mind. "She's alive, just barely."

The tidal wave of morning and grief swept into Dean's throat, smothering him even as he gasped for air. The pain was so great, he could swear he had been stabbed. No, that didn't cover the anguish he felt severely enough. He felt as though someone had carved into his chest with a dull razor and ripped out his heart before riving the slowly beating organ itself into shreds. "The ring? Is it still here?"

"Yes. But don't worry about that now. We have to get you and Brooke to a hospital." The rational part of her brain knew there was no point in even trying to get Dean and Brooke to the hospital. A large part of her knew if she moved Dean to the car he would die well before she opened the door. That same part knew Brooke would pass away well before she ever reached the hospital. There was nothing she could do other than watch them die. But there was a small part of her mind that knew she had to at least try. She had to try to save them. She couldn't lose them, too.

"You have to destroy it. Before it…moves on." Dean's words spoke of his injuries in ways he wasn't even aware of. His breathing was becoming taxed to the point where Ariel knew he wasn't going to even make it out of what was left of this building.

Taking her arm, she braced his head and used her free hand to wipe the scarlet fluid from his bloodstained brow. It took every bit of strength she possessed not to openly cry as she felt him slipping away. "We will, after-"

"Now! Then get Brooke and get out of here, Ari." Dean protested with what was left of his might. Drawing breath was so difficult; he couldn't say everything he wanted. He wanted to tell Ariel to get as far away from this place as possible before the cops came. He wanted her to promise him she would keep herself safe. He wanted to tell her exactly how he felt about her. But the tightening in his chest warned him there wasn't enough time to say the things he yearned to say. Even looking at her was becoming an effort he couldn't maintain. Closing his eyes, he felt the coldness sweep over his body like a solitary wave. He was dying.

"Dean? Stay with me! Don't you dare let go! You hear me?! I can't lose you too! Dean!" Ariel pulled Dean's limp weight more fully into her arms, cradling his head to her chest and holding him close, trying to hold him in this world as firmly as she held him in her arms. Ignoring the pain emulating from her body, she soothed her hand over his face and gently breathed a kiss over his lips.

Dean opened his eyes, though he could barely feel Ariel's lips on his. Trying to speak, he found there was no air filling his lungs. He looked into her eyes, magnified with tears, so intensely green they looked unreal. The pain in her oculuses matched his own. He was dying, and there was nothing either of them could do but wait for that moment when that wakeless sleep would claim him, taking him from her as completely as if someone ripped him from her arms. Determination to speak haled the little air he was able to inhale out in a hushed whisper. "Be care-"

Before the words had fully left his lips, the vivid hazel of his eyes clouded and darkened. His breath seeped out in a silent sigh. Dean's eyelashes feathered closed and his body went completely slack in her arms. The shriek that tore out of her chest was ridden with the pain and agony of grief so thick she couldn't breathe. "No! Please, Dean. No!!!"

Ariel hugged the dead weight in her arms as a flood of tears rushed down her cheeks. She felt for Dean's pulse and started shaking violently the moment her fingertips found nothing on his cooling skin. He was gone.


	17. Chapter 17 Arid Goodbyes

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Chapter Seventeen – **Arid Goodbyes

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**

Ariel's eyes were so tear-filled that Dean's blood covered face blurred out of focus, making her vision a jumbled mixture of red. He was dead. Only the knowledge that Brooke was still alive caused Ariel to release Dean's lifeless body. He slacked to the floor and she bit back a sob as she stood and quickly rushed back to her sister's side. Brooke's pallor had changed. Her breathing was taxed, and judging by the fervour sweeping her brow, she bleeding internally. Ariel kneeled over her sister, placing her finger on her pulse, which weakened with every beat. She knew there was no way Brooke could be moved without causing her to haemorrhage further. She would die as well. Ariel wanted to gather her sister in her arms to at some level let her know she was there, holding her hand, but she knew moving her in anyway would not only cause her pain, but hasten her oncoming death. "I'm so sorry Brooke."

A new kind of pain ripped through her as her sister's breathing began to tatter. Each laboured breath was drawn into Brooke's chest at great length as though the air were too thick for her weak lungs to absorb. Brooke was dying. For the first time in her life, Ariel knew what it felt like to lose everything. Desperation hit her as quickly and as deeply as the grief that was stripping her soul. Standing in a hurried rush that mocked the severity of her injuries, Ariel swiftly walked away from her sister and towards the scorched mound of debris that had partially entombed Ethan Wallace. Without looking back to see everyone she had lost, or giving a single thought as to what she was doing, she set her mouth in a determined line and reached for Ethan's hand. Ariel looked back at Sam and Dean's lifeless bodies. Brooke was minutes from slipping away. She refused to lose them. Knowing that what she was doing would cost her life, she pulled the ring off Ethan's stiffened hand and shoved it onto her middle finger.

The moment the gold made contact with her middle finger a flood of emotions and mangled thoughts rushed through her psyche. Every whim and desire she had ever had raced into her mind, knocking the past and present into a jumbled reality that centered on what could be, not what was. It took every single bit of strength in her body to force the errant thoughts from her consciousness, to remember why she had placed the elegantly coiled golden cobra on her finger in the first place.

Closing her eyes, she focused her thoughts, focused on the clouded lifeless stare in Dean's eyes before they went completely dark. Focused on the blood soaked bangs framing Sam's pale skin as the warmth of his body subsided, leaving him as cold as the concrete that made his death bed. Focused on Brooke's stilling breaths as her sister's heart slowed, taking her from the realm of the living as surely and swiftly as it had taken Sam and Dean. She clung to those thoughts as though they were oxygen in a smoke filled room, choking her sanity from her.

Ariel heard a gasp, her eyes shot open as she looked over the Dean's still form. Only it wasn't still any longer. His chest was moving. Slowly, but it was moving. Ariel quickly searched the room for Sam; his chest was rising and falling once again. Brooke was a few feet away from him, and her once weak, tattered breaths were strong and deep.

It worked.

Ariel wanted to cry out with joy, she wanted to go to each of them and embrace them, delight in their returning vitality. But she couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't think. The ring's lethal form had come alive and two sharp fangs were buried deep within her skin. Ariel could feel the venom pouring into her blood, feel her body numb and cool as the poison began to work its way through her. She knew a brief moment of pain as the world went dark and her knees buckled.

-----

"Dean?"

Dean heard his name, but he didn't open his eyes. Memories flooded over him, drowning out the sound that muffled as though spoke far above the watery depths surrounding his mind. Playing the reminiscences in sequence, he remembered the explosion vividly. He could remember Ariel holding him in her arms as he tried to say goodbye. And then…dying. Dean remembered dying. Yet there he was. Alive. Had it all been a dream?

"Dean!"

Dean opened his eyes when he felt himself being shaken. His brother's brown eyes were watching him intently. Elation washed over him as he looked at Sam. He was alive. It had all been a dream. "Sam? What the-"

Sam cut across Dean's words effortlessly, asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean answered as he shifted to stand up, glancing around; the room belied his previous assumption. The warehouse was a shattered mess of burning rubble. He hadn't been dreaming. The building had exploded. Yet he didn't have a scratch on him. Even the pain in his leg had disappeared. Something was very wrong. "Where's Ariel?"

"Over here!" Brooke called across the room. Her sister's unmoving figure was sprawled over a partially entombed Ethan Wallace. Brooke ignored the contempt that rose in the back of her mind as she hurried past the man who had caused all these problems. She was happy he was as pale and stiff as a frozen fish on a market shelf. But her sister's stillness brought a feeling of terror that raced through her blood as she reached out to touch Ariel's arm. The entire building was in shambles and burning rubble, yet Brooke was completely unharmed, despite her clothes being covered in blood. She wasn't surprised to see the gold Egyptian asp wrapped around sister's slender finger. The fangs etched into the ophidian head were wet with her blood, and above the ring two tiny bite marks were brushing the bottom of a symbol Brooke was all to familiar with. The mark of Meretseger was starting to form in a bruise above the puncture wounds. Brooke knew what her sister had done. Despite the explosion, the only ones with cuts and bruises were Ariel and Ethan. Gripping her sister's hand, Brooke shook her head. Ariel had used the ring to save them. Without looking over her shoulder to see Sam and Dean approach, Brooke mumbled despondently, "She's been bitten."

"We have to get her to a hospital." Dean was already scooping Ariel's still form into his arms as he spoke. "Now."

"The closest one is over an hour away," Sam whispered quietly. Even with Dean behind the wheel, there was little hope, if any, that Ariel would receive the medical treatment she urgently needed. That knowledge wore away at the edges of his heart as he raced ahead of his brother, opening doors for him as they headed towards the exit.

Dean heard his brother. He could feel Ariel's hushed breathing as he carried her through the hallway. Deep down he knew there was nothing they could do to save her. If his heart wasn't wound up in such a knot, Dean would have had to laugh at the irony. The woman fading away in his arms was fated to die. He hadn't even known her a month, but the thought of losing her was tearing his knotted heart in two.

Sam jimmied the entrance door open as he raced ahead to pry the car door open. Dean was hard on his heels, and if Brooke had been any closer to him she would have mowed him over. Dean fit Ariel into the back seat of the Impala, he didn't notice the blood patch she had left on his shoulder as he skirted the car, jumping into the driver's seat and bringing the engine to life in a matter of seconds. Brooke was hovering over her sister in the back seat, ripping her poncho into strips as Sam barked out directions to the nearest hospital before dialling 911 and speaking to the emergency operator.

Brooke was no stranger to snake bites. Growing up in and around Canadian wilderness afforded many reptilian encounters. She started making a make-shift tourniquet around her sister's wrist out of her blood stained poncho. She shook her sister violently until Ariel's eyes crept open. "Ariel, what else can I do?"

Ariel watched the panic lining her sisters ice blue eyes. She would have given anything to take that look of pain from her sister. Back in her mind, she wished she could apologize to Brooke. She was leaving her alone. Really alone. Given Brooke's gun blazing approach to life, deep down she had always thought she would live to see the day Brooke came up against something more wilful than her. But Brooke was alive. She didn't have a scratch on her. She would be just fine. What more could Ariel ask for? "Say … goodbye."

"Like hell! Stay with me Ari!" Brooke demanded harshly. Her sister's pallor was changing from a healthy peach to a shallow white with each dwindling breath.

Dean watched the rear view mirror as he drove through the darkened dirt roads, trying to make it to the hospital before the ophidian ring claimed another victim. Ariel's breathing was laboured, and she was sweating profusely despite the chill that had gripped her. Her fevered skin was losing it's hue with each passing second. Dean hit the gas pedal as hard as he could. There wasn't much time left.

Ariel watched her sister's expression as it filled with worry. There were so many things she wanted to say, but the pressure in her lungs prevented her. Feeling the darkness that was waiting to claim her, she forced the words she needed to say past her quivering lips. "I'm … sorry. I couldn't … let you die."

"Shh. We'll talk about it after." Brooke bit back a sob at Ariel's words. Brooke was the one who was supposed to give her life. She would have gladly traded places with her sister in a heart beat. Yet there she sat, watching the person she would have given her life for in a second slip away. And there was nothing she could do about it. Brooke swallowed hard, forcing herself to whisper, "Just hang in there, okay?"

"I..." Ariel's breathing stilled for several seconds before she gasped, yet despite her lungs being nearly empty, she couldn't coerce the oxygen they desperately needed back into them. Knowing she had to finish what she needed to say, Ariel forced the last words from her lips, feeling the pressure on her lungs as the breath left her body. "I love you."

"Ariel you have to hold on!" Brooke ordered. She couldn't even feel the tears sliding down her cheeks as she pleaded, "Please!"

Ariel smiled softly as she felt her breath cease. She had managed to say all that mattered. When Ariel let out a sigh and the smile she was wearing faded, Brooke knew. The light behind her sister's green eyes washed out into darkness and midnight lashes swept shut, shielding the lifeless orbs from view. Her sister's body went lax in her arms and the arrhythmic beating of her heart arrested.

"No! Don't let go! Ari, no!" Brooke's words strained through the tears choking her throat as she held her sister's face in her palms. The low roar of the Impala's engine masked the eerie silence that stretched through the interior. Even as Brooke started CPR, she knew it was too late. The snake's venom has stopped Ariel's breathing and seized her heart. Her sister was gone.

-----

THE END

* * *

A/N: Epilogue to follow 


	18. Epilogue

_A/N: Thank you all for reading Fated. You're reviews were a treat and I'm glad you enjoyed._

_So much for my happy ending, huh? Haha. You didn't think I'd leave you like that did you!? Shame, shame!_

_Be warned, this epilogue was written merely to incite a specific response from you. And is purely a bridge to get you all to Within Temptation. Meaning it was designed not to satisfy completely but to trigger. There will be a question you all will ask, that will be answered in the sequel so you will just have to read it to find out. I really did my research. It is completely possible, though not known to the public in general. __The sequel is called Within Temptation. Thank you once again for reading._

_So without further ado…_

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

Dean played with the black beads on his wrist absently, as he watched a pink clad weather announcer prance around the screen of the TV set in front of him without actually seeing the television. His thoughts were repeating that night at the warehouse. Waking up to find Ariel barely breathing as the snake's venom worked its way through her system. They had stuffed her into the car, knowing very well that she would never make it to the hospital alive. When her laboured breathing ceased Brooke had started banging on her sister's chest with an intensity that screamed the desperation tearing into her heart. When they finally arrived at the hospital Dean had scooped Ariel's lifeless body into his arms and raced inside with Sam and Brooke. The pair were so hot on his tail that if he had paused for an instant they would have caused a pile up. The doctors had started working on Ariel immediately. Shocking her body with one electrically charged pulse after another, forcing air into her lungs through a small plastic bag that a nurse squeezed relentlessly as the doctor administered a small vile of anti-venom that she had taken far too long to retrieve. That moment still burned his eyes. He had stood there watching the scene from the hallway through the wired glass windows, completely helpless; in transfixed horror, hoping with his entire heart and soul that the line monitoring Ariel's pulse would move. The blaring sound of a flat line echoed in his mind until the shrilling sound was all he could hear.

"Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard and before shaking his head, tearing his thoughts away from the vision of Ariel's lifeless body as he looked away from the television he had been watching without seeing it. "Yeah?"

"Your coffee."

"Thanks Sammy." Dean accepted the small white Styrofoam cup discarding the lid and drinking headily. After signing the small guest registrar manifest, Dean gave the checkout clerk a half smile and followed his brother out of the motel's front desk and into the parking lot, drinking his coffee as though it had been days, rather than hours, since he had had a cup.

Sam lagged his pace considerably as he looked over his shoulder, studying his brother's expression before he questioned, "How's Brooke?"

"Packing her car… Again." Dean shook his head somewhat disjointed. Brooke had packed and repacked her car three times this morning since getting back from the hospital. "Given the situation, she's okay."

"How are you doing?"

Dean wasn't even faintly fazed by his brother's question. The way Sam had been tiptoeing around him, he was surprised Sam hadn't asked sooner. Not that his answer would be different regardless of the circumstances. After taking another sip of the dark java in his cup, he set his jaw, forming his poker face and answered evenly. "I'm fine."

"Right." Sam's voice was ridden with sarcasm, but he continued walking around the bend in the parking lot. He knew in his gut Dean wasn't going to talk about it so there was little point in pushing his brother.

Dean glared at Sam as he drained the last drops of his coffee from the cup. Watching Brooke's mustang come into view as he followed Sam, Dean muttered sternly, "Drop it, okay?"

"Drop what?" Brooke's voice was muffled as she called from inside the trunk of her car.

Sam purposely averted his eyes from Dean, knowing the pissed expression his brother was directing towards him. Sam rounded the rear of Brooke's mustang and outstretched his hand, holding a Styrofoam cup toward the red-haired woman shifting through the trunk's contents. "Coffee?"

Brooke surfaced in record time, smiling brightly as she took the white cup from Sam's hand and flipped the thin plastic lid off, inhaling the rich scent of Columbian before she thanked him. "_Merci beacoup mon ami_."

"Looks like you're all packed." Dean leaned against the navy car frame overlooking the bag crammed trunk. He laughed slightly when he realized that the impala had way more trunk space.

"I wish! Still got some more crap in the room. I need a bigger trunk." Brooke joked, trying to lighten the mood that despite their best efforts managed to stay heavy. Having never enjoyed goodbyes Brooke was grasping at any straw she could find to keep herself from hopping into her car and peeling out of the parking lot.

Dean ran his hand through his spiky hair as he stared at his boots. Crossing one over the other as he leaned further against the mustang, studying the bottom of the boot he had just lifted, trying to find a way to verbalise the thoughts jumbling around his foggy mind. "You know Brooke, I'm-"

"Don't Dean." Brooke placed her coffee cup on the roof of her car as she moved towards the golden haired brunette, memorizing his boot tread. Ignoring Dean's look of surprise Brooke wrapped her arms around him, hugging him briskly, before she whispered, "It was good to see you again."

Dean watched his reflection in Brooke's blue eyes as she released him, smiling. Without saying a word about it she had managed to lay his conscience to rest and let him know they were still friends. "Take care, alright?"

"For sure." Brooke gave Dean a Cheshire smile, the irony of Dean giving her words of caution was too amusing to ignore. When he returned her smile—as though he had read her mind—Brooke rolled her eyes dramatically as she swatted his denim clad shoulder, but the gleam in her eyes was as light as her tone. "Stay in touch, Dean."

"Will do." Dean nodded curtly before tossing his coffee cup aside and heading off towards his nearly empty motel room. He wanted to load up as quickly as possible. That antsy feeling he had after a job was completed was already itching him like crazy.

Brooke snickered quietly as her attention left Dean's hurried retreat and settled on Sam who had placed his coffee on the roof of her car and was leaning against the navy paint with his hands in his jean pockets. "Sam-"

"Brooke-" Sam started to speak at the exact moment Brooke had effectively cutting her off as he spoke. After a mutual pause the pair laughed unconscientiously before Sam pulled his hands free of his pockets and gestured for Brooke to continue.

Brooke couldn't help smiling as she spoke quickly, hoping her discontent didn't leak through her words. "It was certainly interesting meeting you, Sam."

"Likewise." Sam nodded as he sniggered softly. Interesting was the perfect word to describe this whole ordeal. But he was still sorry to see their time together end. Brooke had proven to be very interesting to be around. "Take care, Brooke."

"Stay safe, Sammy." Brooke whispered softly as she edged on her tiptoes to brush her lips across Sam's. His slight intake of breath let her know he had been surprised by her action. She was too, but instead of trying to justify herself she smiled brightly before turning back towards her disarrayed trunk.

-----

Sam rushed down the dirt trodden pathway leading back to the parking lot from his motel room. He was eager to put the duffel bag weighing his shoulder down into the impala and though he'd never admit it he was looking forward to getting back on the road. Recent events had made him crave a nice normal supernatural creature to hunt. Rounding the corner of the paint-peeling motel his eyes fixed on the open doorway that lead into Brooke and Ariel's room. Standing just within view was the lithe form of a young woman he was already starting to miss.

"So, where to now Sammy?" Ariel asked evenly as she braced herself against the motel's doorframe. She was careful not to let too much of her weight rest against her left shoulder. Despite the pain that still radiated from her shoulder it was hardly as bothersome as her cracked ribs, courtesy of her sister's frantic attempts to keep her in the world of the living, after the snake's venom had successfully blocked a third of the receptors in her diaphragm. Asides from the dozen or so stitches that lined her temple and shoulder, her only visible injury was the navy arm sling that kept her from aggravating her dislocated shoulder blade while it healed. The fang marks on her hand had bruised just as deeply as the mark of Meretseger that still marred her skin. Not that any of that really mattered. At least she was alive to feel the pain.

"Canton."

"What's in Georgia?" Ariel asked curiously, somewhat saddened Sam and Dean would be heading so far south. Though she knew they had to part ways, she didn't relish the idea of being thousands of miles apart.

"We might have picked up the trail of a vampire." A vampire that was feasting on the city of Canton like it was a bag of potato chips, but Sam decided to leave that last part out of the conversation. Instead he watched Ariel absently rub her fingers over the healing bruises on her hand. He suspected Ariel would continue to repeat the stroking motion, assuring herself that the wounds were healing, for some time. Eyeing the raven-haired girl in front of him, concern littered his voice as he questioned, "What about you?"

"We're heading home; apparently I need some R&R." Ariel answered evenly. She was hardly thrilled at the notion, but once Brooke had a destination in mind it was easier to just go along with it then butt heads with her sister for a few hours and wind up going there anyway.

"Sounds like fun."

Ariel rolled her eyes noticeably, letting the sarcasm in her voice echo through her reply. "Yeah, loads."

Sam chuckled to himself quietly before his hazel eyes locked with her green ones. "Keep in touch?"

"Promise." Ariel nodded and crossed her heart with her free hand sincerely. The soft smile she was wearing fell the moment Dean entered her peripheral vision. He was carrying a large duffel bag over his left shoulder, as though it weighted as much a bag of marshmallows.

Sam turned to see what had caught Ariel's attention and quickly stifled a laugh when he realized his brother was standing silently behind him watching Ariel, like he hadn't seen her in weeks despite Ariel awakening from her venom induced coma the previous morning. Clearing his throat noticeably Sam resettled his duffel bag shoulder strap before gesturing to the dark canvas bag and returning his attention to Ariel. "I better put these in the car. Be safe, Ari."

"You too, Sam." Ariel nodded, keeping her focus on Sam and not the spiked sandy blonde behind him. Sam shifted his duffel bag just enough to hug Ariel tightly before releasing her and doing an about-face, taking his brother's duffel bag easily and hurrying towards the parking lot somewhat. Once Sam was a few feet from her and Dean, Ariel spoke quietly. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I hear you're off to Canton." Ariel offered sheepishly. An uncomfortable quiet had managed to set in-between them that was thick with everything she wanted to say but wouldn't.

Dean nodded in confirmation and added glibly, "Brooke said you girls are headed home."

"Uh-huh. That we are."

Dean ran his fingers through his hair searching for something he would allow himself to say. Unspoken words burned in his throat, but he discarded them as quickly as he discarded every thought he had of taking her into his arms and letting his lips do all his talking for him. Dean shook himself mentally, forcing his mind back on the feeble pleasantries that would be all he would allow himself. "So this is goodbye, huh?"

"Yeah, guess so." Ariel flashed a brief smile that was so tight it looked more like a grimace before she started chewing on her bottom lip; circumspectly noting Dean's discomfort was a nagging as her own.

Dean returned Ariel's almost nonexistent smile. He spoke hastily, deciding that his stomach felt uneasy the longer this awkward moment dragged on. "Take care of yourself Ari."

"You too, Dean." Ariel forced the words through her clenched throat. She had successfully managed to speak without letting the tempest of her emotions wear in her tone. Though keeping her voice and words casual had been a trying task, she hadn't anticipated she would be able to get through the goodbyes without reaching for Dean, despite every nuance of her body telling her to do just that.

Dean nodded nattily before shifting to head towards the parking lot and Ariel breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment as she averted her eyes, not wanting to watch Dean walk away. Knowing there were so many things left unsaid between them only added to the pain edging its way into her mind at the realization that she would likely not see him again for a very long time—if ever. Meeting Dean had been a fluke, one that likely wouldn't repeat itself given their separate hunting grounds. Fate was as inexorable as it was ill-humoured. Regardless of her feelings, any hope of a relationship with the hazel-eyed hunter was fated at best. But that knowledge didn't ease the sting of her unshed tears.

Ariel shut her eyes against the flood of emotions that made her want to run after Dean, wrap him in her arms and kiss him until his taste was imprinted in her tongue. Her eyes jumped open when she felt two warm callused palms cup her face as Dean's warm lips covered hers hungrily. Ariel had been so focused on not allowing herself to act on her feelings she hadn't noticed Dean hadn't actually walked away from her. The sweet taste of his mouth was so intoxicating she swayed into his embrace, gripping his shirt collar with her free hand as he tilted her face, allowing him to claim her mouth as thoroughly as he had taken her heart. How long they kissed she knew not. Time lost its meaning when he touched her. But when he finally lifted his head, Ariel's knees felt like Jell-O and her mind was as soppy as pudding. Her voice shook as violently as her hands when she released his collar reluctantly. "Be careful."

"Always." Dean smirked jokingly as he released Ariel unhurriedly; wishing things could be different, yet accepting that they would never change in the same breath. He watched the cloudy green of Ariel's eyes and cursed the woman he couldn't have and would always want for having such a hold on him.

This time Ariel watched as Dean turned and walked away. Her heart sunk in her chest when she licked her lips and tasted Dean, knowing that taste would haunt her sleepless nights like a ghost that could never be laid to rest.

It took all of Dean's strength not to look back at the raven-haired woman standing in the motel's doorway. He rushed down the path to the parking lot; crossing the mustang and yanking open the impala's car door, allowing him just enough time to get in before he slammed the sun-heated metal shut. Shooting Brooke a smile before he turned the key to the ignition, reviving the engine to life, Dean watched Ariel watch him in the rear view mirror. Once Sam was inside and his door was closed Dean put the car into gear, took one last long look at the rear view mirror and pulled out of the parking lot, turning back onto the main access road that would lead back to highway eleven. Looking at his brother, shaking his head as Dean laughed, "That was one hell of a job."


End file.
